Love Me Like You Do
by deepwater1978
Summary: The world knew her face but he knew her heart…
1. Chapter 1

_New York. The Big Apple. The city that never sleeps,_ Damon Salvatore thought as he settled in his seat. _If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere. Blah, blah, blah, blah._

"How long are we here again?" he glanced out the cab window and up at the flock of billboards flying overhead in the Times Square airspace, a confetti skyline swirled with Technicolor and kinetic lights.

"Three months, give or take," his assistant, Rose, says, not looking up from her phone.

Damon had already missed his house in Atlanta. Despite the many miles he logged flying all over the world, he was Southern boy at heart. A city like Atlanta made an excellent home base for him. A world-class city with the charm and sensibility of a much smaller town. Whenever Damon was in New York, he felt on edge, like the Big Apple was taking a bite out of him. It was not an easy place to negotiate. It was a city bursting with possibility and creativity, but it required a certain amount of armour. Feeling that way for three months….he didn't really like it but he knew he had to deal with it.

"We are lucky to have your brother's place while we are here." Enzo, his business partner and best friend of fifteen years, looked at their schedule on his iPad. "We have so many meetings at the UN this month. All the companies interested in buying us out are here in New York. We have several galas in the city over the next few weeks. Makes sense not to keep going back and forth, and just make this our base for a little bit."

"Yeah, at least we will be staying in Brooklyn." Damon leaned an elbow on the base of the cab window, considering the changing digital billboards while they were stopped at a traffic light. "Downtown gives me a seizu—"

The word froze on Damon's tongue when one advertisement in particular caught his attention. Or, he should say, the model did. Her name was nowhere on the ad, but it didn't need to be. Elena Gilbert had been one of the most recognizable faces in the world for the past ten years.

She was naked. Even though she was stretched out flat on her stomach with her chin propped on her hands, breasts pressed to the floor, she was obviously naked. Her hair, famously long and dark brown, was ruthlessly scraped back, exposing the flawless bone structure of her face. It was rare to see someone like her wearing no makeup at all, but her face was completely bare. Matter of fact, the product she was promoting was called REVEAL.

 _REVEAL: Skin care so good you will have nothing to hide._

She was naked, no cosmetics at all, and yet her eyes made a lie of that tagline. She was utterly exposed, and though her brown doe eyes were the clearest Damon had ever seen, they yielded nothing.

"You were saying?" Enzo wore a knowing grin, glancing from his face to the billboard before it swiped to the next product being advertised. "I hope you will be less obvious when we meet her in person tonight, Damon."

"Tonight?" Damon frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"That is Grayson's Gilbert daughter," Rose piped in, eyes still fastened to her phone. Sometimes Damon thought she had eyes in the back of her head. "She will be at the charity dinner tonight. They are at your table, if I'm not mistaken."

Damon looked back at the billboard even though a different image had taken its place. He still saw her as vividly as when she stared back at him with those guarded brown doe eyes.

Even when they were several blocks away and had started discussing their upcoming trip to Cambodia, Damon still wondering how a girl naked on the side of a building managed to hide in broad daylight and show nothing at all.


	2. Chapter 2

"Elena, over here!"

"One more shot, Elena."

"Could we get one of you by yourself?"

Elena Gilbert's date moved a few feet ahead, leaving her to stand alone, a lightning rod in the storm of flashing bulbs and the chaos of shouts and snapping shutters. A carnival of exhibitionism, and she was the main attraction. Red carpets and runways. There was no place like home.

Elena stopped and stroke a pose. Body in profile. Face front. Breasts up. Hips forward. Knee bent. Head high. Like a horse, she could fall asleep standing this way. A very well-bred, expensive horse and she dared anyone to bet against her.

"Who are you wearing tonight, Elena?"

 _God, who did I settle on?_ Elena thought. _Jesus, I can't remember!_

Several of her favourite designers sent dresses over, and for the life of her…she glanced down at the clover green shantung sheathing the long line of her body as if the designer's name might be emblazoned there. _Cardinal rule of red carpet—never forget who you are wearing._ That was what Elena was taught one day one.

"Elie Saab." Elena lifted the hem of the dress mere inches to reveal the glittering glory of her shoes. "Giuseppe Zanotti."

She nodded her head once and offered a smile before moving down the carpet to join her date.

Matt Donovan. Last year's NFL MVP, former Heisman winner and her future ex-boyfriend. This might be the last night they would share the spotlight. He wouldn't see it coming, but it needed to come.

Actually, so did Elena. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to wait just one more night before she cut Matt loose. He was good-looking. There was no doubt about that. Not in the stunning, almost disturbing way that-that some people were, but in a healthy American way. Matt Donovan was all-American. His blond hair was cropped short, and his skin was sunburnt from spending a lot of time in the outdoors. His blue eyes were honest and straightforward. The typical golden boy.

"You think there will be more press inside?" That eager light in Matt's eyes reminded Elena why it had to be quitted. _Probably tonight,_ she said to herself.

Matt wanted all of this more than he wanted her. She got it. She grew up in a world of calculation, and the most calculating player of them all stared back at her from the mirror every morning. She looked at her right in the eyes with no regrets, but this—all of this—didn't feed her. Elena suspected Matt had quickly become addicted to the spotlight, to the attention. He needed it, and she was allergic to needy. She felt a breakout coming on like a dreaded pimple knotting below the surface of their brief and very public relationship.

They had been going out for less than a month, and he was already shipping them. Looking for ways to combine their names. Like M&E or Mattelena. But Elena didn't like it at all.

"There may be some press inside," she finally responded to his question. "But the worst of it is over."

"Worst?" Matt frowned, a quick bend of his dark blond brows. "This is what you do, Elena. I thought you loved it."

"Yeah, well, I have been doing it for some time. It gets old."

"Not for me. Not yet." He flashed his Colgate smile—literally, he just signed the contract today—and took her hand. "I'm just getting started."

And Elena was ready to stop. Oh, there would still be red carpets at fund-raisers like these, and endorsements and the occasional show, but she had been modelling since she was eighteen years old. In ten years she had scored every major cover. Worn all the elite designers. Been through every Fashion Week on repeat year after year. The catwalk was littered with kittens, girls still in high school. It was a girl's game, one that required constant vigilance. Too much vigilance for something she found meant less to her than it ever had before.

Elena's mind wandered to the meeting scheduled with her team tomorrow to strategize the next phase of her career. Her first natural smile of the night moved her mouth from the plastic facsimile she offered the cameras to the closest thing to real she would show in public. Her plans for this next stage of her life were completely her own, and they excited her. Maybe she was jaded, but it took more and more to excite her these days. That was probably why she had kept Mr Golden Boy around for the last month.

Once inside Cipriani, she glanced around one of New York's most elegant ballrooms, its Greek revival columns studded with muted lights. Floral arrangements of gold, cream, and rose served as elaborate centrepieces for each table. The seventy-foot Wedgewood ceiling hovered over the scene like an elegantly painted sky.

"I know I should know." Matt bent his head, the warm breath of his words at her ear. "But what is this event for again? They kind of all run together after a while."

"Uncle Whitmore is honouring some entrepreneurs for their philanthropic efforts. An excuse for rich people to dress up and eat and have their pictures taken."

"Nathan Whitmore isn't actually your uncle, though, right?"

"No, but he is my father's closest friend. Daddy was a huge part of building Augustine Enterprises, and he is Uncle Whitmore's right hand." Yet another natural smile touched her lips. A tiny shrug lifted her bare shoulders. "His son, Aaron, and I grew up very close. Our families took vacations together. We went to the same schools here in New York. We were…well, it was nice."

"You and Aaron ever…" Matt lifted and lowered his eyebrows suggestively.

So there were still some people who didn't know every detail of her life that had been blared in tabloids and proclaimed on TMZ as gospel truth. Elena couldn't decide if she was pleased or insulted by Matt's ignorance of her past with Aaron.

"Yeah, we dated a few years back." A bitter pill lodged in her throat, but she forced herself to swallow it and said the next words. "That was, of course, before he married his wife, Kerris."

Matt glanced at the card the hostess handed them when they entered, and scanned the room until his eyes rested on a table near the stage. He pointed the card in that direction.

"Isn't that them at our table?"

 _What did I do to deserve this?_ Elena thought as she looked at the table near the stage. _Who am I kidding?_ She had done a lot more to deserve much worse, but it seemed like a particularly cruel punishment to seat her with Aaron and Kerris Whitmore. She spent half her life certain that she and Aaron would marry, that they would be the envy of all their friends and pretty much the civilized world. Instead, envy pinched her heart. They had twins not even two years ago, and Kerris's petite frame shows a small baby bump. She was pregnant again. _Already?_ Elena thought. _What are they, rabbits?_ It was obscene to be that fertile.

And obscene to be that happy.

As Elena watched, Aaron pressed his hand to Kerris's back, seating her and dropping a kiss on her dark hair. Their eyes locked for an extra second, something passing between them that made her feel like a Peeping Tom. Something that walled out everyone around them for those few moments.

It didn't hurt anymore, seeing them together, but a whole night of it could drive Elena to drunkenness and disorderly conduct, two offenses she had avoided for more than a year. There should be a token for that, like a sobriety coin or something. Though her sins had been anything but anonymous. She was a pap's field day. She knew it, but couldn't make herself care what they reported. Most of it was true, and all the fucks she had to give ran out years ago.

Elena couldn't figure why she would be at their table. Her mother chaired this event. She wouldn't torture her this way. _Mother wouldn't, but Daddy…_

 _Speak and he shall appear,_ she thought _. How ironic!_ Her father, Grayson Gilbert materialized in front of her, dapper, distinguished, and as handsome as the day her mother married him. The fairness of his hair swallows up the grey, and he looked not much older than in the wedding pictures she had seen from thirty years ago. The lines fanning out from the brown eyes so like hers only deepen and added maturity to his appeal. Those eyes stared back at her with something very close to…tolerance. That was about all her father had left for her these days. _You can't live the way I have, as publicly as I have (refer back to the fucks I ran out of years ago), and expect to remain Daddy's little girl._ That was what she had always believed.

Yet Elena would do anything for him. He knew it and exploited that weakness at every turn, and she saw a turn coming. He glanced speculatively between Matt and her.

"Hi, Daddy." Elena looped her elbow through Matt's. "Matt, this is Grayson Gilbert, my father. Daddy, you know Matt, right? He plays for the Jets."

"Yes, of course. That was some pass on Sunday." Her father reached for Matt's hand and gave it a friendly shake before dismissing him with the look he reserved for people who could do nothing for him. "I could use your help tonight, Elena. There is a big fish here we need to reel in."

This wasn't the first time her father had required her help persuading someone his company would be much better off under the Augustine Enterprises umbrella. Elena glanced down at her cleavage, which was on display, making sure the girls were ready to earn their keep. _When your father recruits your sixteen-year-old charms to persuade grown men, you get used to feeling like a commodity_. This idea had been imprinted in her brain for a long time. No different from using her legs to sell shoes or her long dark, silky brown hair to sell shampoo. Only the payoff was Daddy's approval. Much harder to come by than any cheque she had ever cashed.

"Your mother has seated Aaron at your table to help," Grayson continued, his voice low as he grasped her elbow and walked her slowly towards the table, leaving Matt to trail behind just out of earshot. "So Aaron will be in one ear and you will be in the other."

 _Great,_ Elena thought. _What a night!_ Not only did she have to watch her former lover and oldest friend's wedded bliss with another woman, but she got to bathe in some old man's drool all night while she convinced him he really should be happy when their mammoth conglomerate gobbles up his life's work. And if she started losing him, she would just point to her chest and say, "And did I mention my breasts?"

"So who is this big fish I'm wiggling on the hook for?" Elena slowed her steps, forcing her father to do the same.

Grayson's lips tighten with distaste at Elena's candour. He had no problem doing distasteful things, but he didn't like her talking about them. Or maybe he just didn't like to talk about the distasteful things she did, even when she did them for him.

"Damon Salvatore." Grayson narrowed his eyes like he was sighting a target. "Thirty-five years old. He and his business partner are based in Atlanta, but are here in New York for a few months exploring options to expand, taking meetings, doing events like this one."

Well, at least she could knock old off the list. He was not much older than she was.

"So what is his deal?"

"His 'deal' is that he and his college buddy started a business to start businesses, and it is exploded. They focus on developing and third world nations. They have started businesses in Haiti, Kenya, and Cambodia. They are really concerned about training the people in these areas and empowering them economically. It is actually quite brilliant, and good of them."

"If it is so good of them, why can't we just leave them to it?"

"Because, honey"—Grayson dipped the word in condescension—"they are making money hand over fist, and that bottom line would be even better under Augustine leadership."

"Better because it would be an Augustine holding and you would get to benefit from it?"

"Me?" Grayson elevated just one brow. "Don't you mean we? This is your future, too, young lady. When you are done with this modelling nonsense, there is a place for you at the table."

He said this to manipulate her. He used her love against her, and she allowed it. Her father probably thought the only place at the table for her was under it, blowing some client who needed persuading. Not that he had ever actually asked her to sleep with anyone to acquire a company. Even he wouldn't prostitute his own daughter.

 _Who knows how badly he wants this fish?_ Elena guessed.

She looked at the table where Aaron and Kerris just sat down. Aaron stood back up to greet two men approaching the table. One was a tall man who seemed fit enough. He did look good in his tuxedo but definitely not someone who would attract her attention span long enough.

The other man—well, the other man you would never forget. This man was a vivid "eternal stud". His tuxedo—Tom Ford laid against him like a lover. He wore it with a white, open-collared silk shirt instead of a bow tie, and Elena approved. He was what some would call strapping. He was at least standing 5'10" in height with a well built, toned physique. The flawlessly tailored pants pull just a little at the muscled line of his thigh. He had a light complexion with olive undertones and had a strong bone structure with high cheeks bones and a solid jaw line. His brown, almost black hair which hung just over his ears made something arresting of a face that could have stopped at handsome.

"Did you hear me, Elena?" Impatience tightened Grayson's lips.

"Sorry, Daddy. No. You were saying something about this Damon Salvatore."

"That is him at the table with Aaron. He is the one who doesn't have a bow tie, and his partner is the one with a bow tie."

"You want me to charm him?"

The prospect of flirting with this beautiful beast of a man made Elena tingle. It would be like taming a lion with no whip or chair. A bare-handed taunting and tempting with only her considerable female wiles to subdue all that hulking maleness. Deliciously dangerous, and she was completely up for the challenge.

"Not charm, just…be nice to him. Talk up Augustine when you have an opening." Grayson's mouth went stern and his eyes turned hard. "I'm trusting you with this, Elena. Do not embarrass me with this man. He is not like these other men you…entertain."

Grayson casted a glance over his shoulder at Matt, who was looking around the ballroom. Elena just didn't get famous people who didn't realize they were famous. _This is now your natural habitat,_ she thought. _Why are you still staring around?_

"Don't worry, Daddy. I promise not to embarrass you with my wanton ways."

Elena kept her tone light, but she knew her past exploits prompted his warning.

"I'm not worried. You could lure flies away from shit when you set your mind to it."

"What a pleasant image, Daddy. I will hold it close."

"Do." He brought them to a complete stop, offering her elbow back to Matt with an absent smile. "It was good meeting you, Matt. Keep up the good work this season."

"Sure thing, Mr Gilbert," Matt offered his classic white-toothed smile. "Nice to meet you, too."

Grayson nodded before returning his eyes to Elena.

"Remember what I said, Elena. I need to go check on a surprise guest."

"Surprise?" Her interest piqued. Grayson did great surprises. "No hints?"

"You will find out with everyone else, sweetheart."

 _Of course,_ Elena thought. _Why would I be special?_

"You ready?" she asked Matt as her father walked off to tend to his surprise guest.

"Definitely."

Matt kissed her hair, and Elena couldn't help but remember the kiss Aaron gave Kerris a few minutes ago. She was not sure anyone would ever kiss her that way. Not the kiss itself, the practice of lips touching hair, but what laid behind it. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she was sure no one had ever touched her that way. No one had ever felt for her what Aaron felt for that woman. She could see it in the simplest contact they shared. Whatever they had, she didn't think she ever believed in it, and she certainly didn't expect it for herself.

They reached the table, and Elena saw her place card to the left of Damon Salvatore's, with Aaron on his right, like Grayson said it would be. At least he seated her date on her other side. Kerris was, of course, on Aaron's other side. There had never been any love lost between that girl and her. She stole what was always supposed to be Elena's. Aaron and Elena made sense. She and Aaron defied the laws of social logic, her being a nobody and all, but somehow here they were, obviously besotted with each other and…working.

"Elena, Aunt Miranda told me you just got back from Dubai." Aaron walked around the table and kissed Elena's cheek.

"Yep." Elena leaned in to the friendly greeting, knowing friendly was as far as they would ever go now. "It was a quick shoot."

Somehow they had remained friends despite the disastrous affair a few years back, a desperate attempt on Elena's part when Kerris married Aaron's best friend, Wes. Elena had been conductor for enough train wrecks to recognize one, and that was some messed-up shit. Now Wes is married to Aaron's cousin Jo, and Aaron was married to Kerris. A game of musical beds Elena wish she could have gotten in on.

Come to think of it, with her turn at Aaron, she guessed she kind of did.

Aaron had stayed true through everyone telling him what a bitch she was, and let's face it, they were right. He even forgave her insulting treatment of his wife. They didn't talk every day or anything, but he could have used his influence with the Whitmore Foundation to take something from her that meant a lot. Elena had served as the foundation's celebrity ambassador for years. If she hadn't done anything else right, she had that. Aaron knew how much it meant to her, and didn't take it away as retaliation for the bad blood between Kerris and her. For that, and for a hundred other kindnesses he had shown her since they were in preschool, she would strain to be civil to his sweet wife.

"Sweet" was not a compliment, by the way. Kerris's smile alone gave her a cavity.

"Good to see you, Aaron. Hi, Kerris." Elena slid her glance to Kerris. Kerris returned her nod, wearing a guarded look on her face. Elena would try for her best behaviour, but she was a bitch on a leash that slipped from time to time. Best be prepared for anything.

"Elena, let me introduce you to our guests." Aaron gestured to the tall man wearing the bow tie. "This is Enzo St. John, co-founder of Mystic Corp."

Enzo stood and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"And this is his business partner, Damon Salvatore."

Aaron stepped back, and Elena had her first close-up of the fish she was here to catch. Only she was the one hooked, immediately. She was careful not to show it, but that stunned look she was used to seeing on other people's faces? All over her inside face.

This force of flesh and bone and muscle wrapped in heat loomed over her. Damon Salvatore's presence burnt holes in her composure. She could tell from across the room that he was attractive and built like a mountain lion, lean and strong and broad. But it was only now, with proximity, that his absolute confidence met her head-on. He tilts his head to the left, his blue-grey eyes steadily considering her, and Elena swore he knew. Even though she was sure her face didn't give it away, she swore he knew that as she stood in front of him, inhaling his clean scent and waiting for his first smile, windmills turned in her belly.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Gilbert." His lips, wide and full, gave her a smile punctuated by dimples.

 _Take me now._

That was not a figure of speech. Elena quite literally wanted him to toss her over that hulking shoulder, find a dark corner somewhere, and make love to her so deeply into a wall they would leave a dent. Or in a bathroom stall. Hell, he could drag her over to the elaborate buffet table and take her from behind right there by the ice sculpture.

One brow rose. Holy crap, she hadn't responded yet.

"Um, nice to meet you, too, Mr Salvatore." Elena took her time so he tongue didn't betray the muddled mess of haywire hormones she was right now.

His eyes drifted over her shoulder, forcing her mind and manners back to Matt.

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry. How rude." Elena turned to Matt, who immediately claimed her elbow and drew her into his side. All of a sudden he was territorial. She couldn't blame him. _If my girlfriend was within five feet of this man, I would handcuff her to me for the night,_ she thought. "This is Matt Donovan."

"Great game Sunday." Damon clasped the hand Matt was manacling her with. "I'm a Falcons fan myself, but I can appreciate a good toss no matter the team. That's some arm you got there."

Matt's hold on her relaxed a bit. _Clever Damon, disarming him that way. Well played. Will I be able to strip this fish of his defences as easily?_ Elena thought.

Once seated, Matt, Damon, Enzo, and Aaron fell into a discussion about football Elena didn't even try to follow. Apparently neither did Kerris. She was texting someone with a small frown on her face, and mumbled something to Aaron about a sitter. Elena settled into her seat beside Damon, taking a few moments to compose herself and strategized how she could get that hook in his mouth.

"So you were in Dubai?"

The question startled Elena a little, she was so lost in her musings. She turned slightly in Damon's direction, creasing her lips politely.

"For a shoot, yes." She toyed with the clamp on her clutch, which rested on the table. "And my friend Liv married a prince over there. I like to visit her every once in a while."

"A real live prince, huh?" Damon teased her with a quirk of those full lips.

"Don't be too impressed." She leaned a few inches closer to him and lowered her voice. "He is a prince in name only."

"If he is a prince in name only, what does that make him in deed?"

Elena couldn't hold on to the humour when she recalled the bruises shackling Liv's throat and wrists, or the black-and-blue mark on her cheek like a brand. She refocused her eyes and sobered her mouth.

"A frog."

"I thought you ladies kissed all the frogs to find the prince."

"It happens that way in fairy tales, not in Manhattan." Elena sipped her champagne. "Or in Dubai, apparently."

"So you don't believe in fairy tales." His striking blue-grey eyes made a slow, thorough inspection of her features.

"I don't. Do you?" She tossed a skein of her hair back so he got an eyeful of the bare line of her neck and shoulder. His eyes moved down her neck, warming the skin like a touch, before he looked back into her eyes.

"I did when I was a child." Damon laughed a little, lounged back in his chair, and linked long fingers across a flat stomach Elena imagined was corded with muscle. "Well, if you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales."

Elena's eyes widened. "Who told you that?"

He laughed again, his teeth white against his skin. With striking, intense blue-grey eyes contrasting wonderfully against darkened lashes and eyebrows, a "bad boy" smile, Damon Salvatore was definitely sexy and seductive.

"Albert Einstein."

"Hmm."

"I thought girls like fairy tales." He brushed a hand over his neat hair, disrupting it into a spill on his forehead. "There is always 'happily ever after' in fairy tales."

"When I was a little girl I used to read fairy tales. In fairy tales you meet Prince Charming and he is everything you ever wanted. In fairy tales the bad guy is very easy to spot. The bad guy is always wearing a black cape so you always know who he is. Then you grow up and you realize that Prince Charming is not as easy to find as you thought. You realize the bad guy is not wearing a black cape and he is not easy to spot."

"Then how does the bad guy look now?"

"The bad guy is really funny, and he makes you laugh, and he has perfect hair."

"Really?" His eyes gleamed, heating up a little as they held hers. "Am I the bay guy or the Prince Charming?"

Elena was supposed to be flirting with him, baiting him, but he was casting the line. She didn't like it. She needed the pole in her hand. She broke that steamy contact, lowering her eyes to the cocktail ring she was twisting around her finger.

"I heard you were in Haiti. What took you to Haiti?" she asked. "It is miserably hot this time of year."

Damon paused a moment before answering, the press of his lips against a smile acknowledging her conversational feint.

"You have been?"

"Elena has been to our orphanage in Haiti several times for the foundation," Aaron interjected from Damon's other side.

Elena wondered how in on this little plan of Grayson's he actually was. Aaron was a great guy, but when it came down to it, he was as much Nathan Whitmore's son as she was Grayson Gilbert's daughter. Both of them descended from ruthless corporate raiders.

"She is our celebrity ambassador," Aaron continued.

"Really?" A new light entered Damon's eyes. It could be respect. Elena was not sure.

"Christina, Aaron's mother, recruited me years ago to do it, and they haven't gotten rid of me yet."

Though there were a few times Elena wondered if the Whitmore Foundation board of directors might have ousted her had she not been Baby Girl of Grayson Gilbert. And right on cue, her father took a seat beside Enzo.

"Sorry, I was detained making plans for a surprise guest." Grayson took a sip of the white wine at his elbow. "Now, Damon and Enzo, you are both Princeton men, right?"

"In a manner of speaking." Damon offered a self-deprecating laugh, sharing a grin across the table with Enzo. "We dropped out our junior year to start Mystic Corp."

"It all worked out, though." Enzo took sip of his wine. "They conferred an honorary degree on us last year."

"Well, that was nice." Grayson pointed a fork in Elena's direction. "You wouldn't know it, but Elena here was accepted to Princeton."

Elena's lips pursed against the groan that wanted out so badly. _Not this again,_ she thought.

"And Sarah Lawrence," Grayson continued. "And UCLA."

"Yes, but somewhere along the way I got confused and thought it was my life." Elena dashed saccharine on the smile she offered her father. "And that I could do what I wanted with it."

"You mean running all over the world having your picture taken?" Grayson lowered his fork to his plate and his eyebrows into the frown she was used to seeing when they discussed her misspent youth.

"It is actually worked out quite well for me, Daddy."

She was one of the highest-paid, most sought-after models in the world. That meant something to her, if not to him. She wouldn't let him piss on it.

"We saw your billboard today." Enzo passed the words and a kind smile to Elena across the table.

"I hope it was the one where she is wearing clothes." Grayson sliced into his tender steak and any pride Elena might feel for her accomplishments, as they were.

An awkward silence pooled around his words. Elena felt Damon's eyes on her, assessing if Grayson's words had found their mark. _Good luck cracking this safe, Salvatore,_ she thought. She offered a laugh that tinkled like a champagne toast.

"Daddy, that is the REVEAL campaign." Elena was sure he was not bringing up the Playboy spread she recently did for her birthday. Not in front of his fish. "It is very tastefully shot."

Enzo forked an asparagus spear. "Was that the one we saw, Damon?"

"Not sure." Damon moved his broad shoulders in a careless shrug.

"If it was Times Square, it is REVEAL, a skin-care product I endorse." Elena pushed a chunk of hair behind one ear. "In the other one I'm actually wearing clothes."

"Where is the other billboard?" Damon raised his glass of water to his lips while he waited for her answer.

"In the Meatpacking District." Elena was taking the pole back and baiting the hook. "But you don't have to try to find it. You have the real thing right here."

Damon didn't bite, but smiled and gave her one last look before turning to answer a question Aaron just posed.

"Where is your mum?" Matt asked from his seat beside her.

"Probably scolding a server." She pierced a scallop and popped it into her mouth. "After years of practice, she is very good at that."

"Your mother is actually making some seating chart adjustments so our special guest can sit here with us," Grayson said.

That special guest again. As long as it was not another sheikh. The last time Elena entertained one of Grayson's sheikhs, he had followed her to the bathroom and couldn't get his hands off her. He didn't speak a word of English, but she translated knee to groin perfectly.

"Here they come now." Grayson wore a pleased expression on his usually hard-to-satisfy face.

Elena saw her mother first, and she could only hope, with all her creams, exfoliations, and serums, to look as beautiful as Miranda Grayson did in twenty years. Like Elena she was a brunette. Where Elena's hair was dark brown, hers was almond in colour. Her hair colour and nature were much softer than Elena's. But they both shared the same brown doe eyes.

By all rights, living with Grayson Gilbert—his callousness, infidelity, and neglect—should have lined Miranda's face with pain, but her skin radiated age-defying youth. By necessity, Elena had toughened her heart's tender places, but she had always wanted to be like her mother in some ways. Always wanted them to be closer. Maybe she reminded her mother too much of her father for her to really love her. She glanced at her father, who barely registered her mother's approach because he was fixated on the "special guest" accompanying her.

Elena shifted her attention to the special guest.

Everything in her went still. Her fingers froze around her fork like rigor mortis had set in. Her breath stalled in her throat. Her heart refused to beat for a matter of seconds, depriving her of blood to the brain. That must be why she was lightheaded. Why her hands went cold and her feet went numb. It was circulatory, not long-buried fear. Not never-forgotten disgust. Not deeply embedded shame.

She wanted to believe the man at her mother's side was not who she thought he was. Was not who her body thought he was, but he went still, too, and made her certain. He stopped walking towards them, his steps faltering for a heartbeat and his eyes widening when they tangled with hers. They shared memories, memories that tortured her dreams into nightmares. Memories that, even now, as he regained his composure and continued his steady pace towards her table behind her mother, twisted his lips into a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Who was this girl? Damon couldn't stop asking himself.

Obviously, Damon knew who she literally was, but what stirred beneath that polished, placid surface? When Enzo told him Elena Gilbert would be here tonight, he expected to be impressed with her physical beauty, but he didn't expect to be…intrigued.

Even though he saw her on a billboard earlier, that colossal image a hundred feet in the air was somehow dwarfed by this woman in the soft, silky flesh. His preconceived notions of her had been broadened and lengthened by what appeared to be a quick wit and sharp intelligence.

Damon had been fighting himself not to just stare at her ever since she and that punk-ass quarterback walked in. Matt Donovan had got a great arm, but he hadn't fully lived up to the promise he showed in college when he won the Heisman. He was MVP last year. He got to give him that. _Let's face it, man,_ Damon said to himself. _I'm just sour because he is with her._ He had never been one to go after another guy's girl, and he wouldn't start with this one. But he would trade places with him, even if just for a night.

In the high-risk ventures that had made Damon and Enzo richer than they ever imagined when they walked away from their Princeton scholarships, Damon sank or swam on his instincts, on his gut-level assessment. Based on what he saw, Matt bored her. He had no idea how to handle a woman like Elena. That long silky dark brown hair, those brown doe eyes, that smooth skin—all made everyone thought she was an icy goddess, but even their brief exchange showed him the truth. There was fire beneath that perfectly cool façade. She wasn't feisty or sassy. Those words were too girlish somehow for what he sensed in her. She was…bold. And he had decided that he liked her.

Damon had been rationing glances, allowing himself to look over at her only every so often. He didn't want her to think he was one of those idiots who ran behind her with their noses wide open. He was not that guy. He and Enzo had been so focused on building Mystic over the last decade that there was barely been time for dating, relationships, or any life really outside of creating these entrepreneurial incubators all over the world. But even he hadn't been so far under a rock he didn't know a gorgeous woman when he saw her.

Okay. He had waited long enough. He had earned another look.

Damon turned in Elena's direction, ready for more flirting and to tease out that fire he sensed hiding, but everything about her was now frozen. Her smile had hardened into an icy curve on her face, and he watch it splintered into a thousand icicles that leave her lips a straight, dead line. Her hand was a cold claw on the table in front of her. And her eyes, frozen over like a winter pond, fixed on the man approaching with her mother.

Aaron leaned across Damon, touching Elena's hand and tugging until she shifted her glance to him.

"I had no idea, Elena." His eyes and whisper were urgent. "I didn't know he would be here. I don't know why he is, but I will find out. I will handle this. I promise. Are you okay?"

This was the softest Damon had seen her so far. Not in a magazine, not on that billboard, not tonight had she been less than certain. Less than the runway moniker he had heard they called her—the Goddess. But for a second, in a flash, Elena Gilbert looked completely, humanly lost. Those icy eyes melted when they met Aaron's, and she bit her lip hard enough that when she released it, blood rushed to the surface, colour flooding the lips that had gone white around the red lipstick.

"I'm fine, Aaron." Piece by piece, Elena reassembled herself, layering confidence and dispassion around her like veils. "I promise I'm fine."

She slid her eyes to Damon like she had just remembered that he was there, between them. He was never supposed to see that weak, lost moment. She was naked on the Times Square billboard, but he just saw her completely exposed, and she didn't like it. She pulled her brows into a V, her soft lips tightening.

"I'm fine." This time Elena aimed the words and the hardening-by-the-second eyes at Damon.

"Aaron and Elena, here is the surprise guest I mentioned," Grayson rose from the table to give a quick kiss to the gorgeous woman Damon knew was Elena's mother. He slapped the surprise guest on the back. "You both remember Liam Davis, right? You were at Hanover together, right?"

Damon and Enzo met Liam last week. Damon wasn't impressed then and remained unimpressed now. Liam was an opportunistic cretin who pretended to care about the issues of the moment that carried weight on a ballot. He was social tofu, absorbing the flavour of any cause that would gain traction with voters. If he had any personal integrity, Damon didn't detect it. Somehow he had convinced the American public he was the best thing since the DVR, and he was so incredibly popular, he would probably be New York's next senator. Coming from a powerful, wealthy family probably didn't hurt.

Liam split a cautious glance between Aaron and Elena, seeming to gauge their reception of him. Aaron's jaw was locked tight and hard as diamonds. He glared at Liam and looked at Elena, concern softening his expression.

 _What the hell is going on here?_ Damon thought. _And am I the only one feeling this tension?_

"Yes, Daddy." Elena passed one hand over the hair caressing her shoulder. "Don't you remember Liam took me to the prom?"

"That's right." Grayson narrowed his eyes at Liam like he was seeing him for the first time. "How could I have forgotten that? Well, he has come a long way since high school, huh?"

"Haven't we all." Elena's eyes lingered over Grayson's hand on Liam's shoulder before dropping to the table. She reached for her glass of champagne, only to find it empty. Without missing a beat, she grabbed Damon's.

"Oh, that's my—"

Elena held his eyes with hers, gulping back the bubbly, intoxicating liquid like it was water before slamming the delicate flute so hard he was surprised it didn't shatter.

 _Screw it,_ Damon thought. _She obviously needs it more than I do._

"You are looking at the great state of New York's next senator." Grayson motioned Liam to the empty seat made available at the last minute for him.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Liam settled into the seat, snapped open his linen napkin, and let it float over his knees under the table. "There is an election to get through."

"Oh, that is a formality, my boy." Grayson gestured that everyone should resume eating.

"Your support means a lot." Liam glanced at Elena again, who didn't look up from the fingers tangled in her lap. "It is a long road ahead. I just hope I can hang in there."

"You will, son." Grayson studied his daughter, with that same look on his face as when he talked about the schools Elena didn't attend. "We respect quitters about as much as those who never even try."

Elena's shoulders stiffened and she raised her eyes to meet her father's. She reached for Damon's glass again, but it was empty now, too. Her eyes scanned the room, almost like she was looking to escape. Her fingers opened and closed around her small purse, a compulsion of which she seemed unaware. Her eyes collided with Liam's across the table, exchanging some message Damon wished he could decode, but it was garbled and embedded in whatever secret they harboured between them.

"I hope our future senator can count on all of your votes." Grayson smiled around the sip he was taking and looked around the table.

An awkward silence fell over the group. Damon glanced at Elena, who rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat, folding her arms under her breasts.

"Kerris, the women's vote will be crucial." Grayson softened his shark grin for Aaron's petite wife, who had seemed distracted much of the night.

Aaron frowned, shooting a protective glance his wife's way.

"Oh, well." Kerris laid her phone in her lap, but looked down once more at the screen and nodded before speaking. "I…I'm not really very political."

"Understandable." Liam's smile condescends.

"But I do wonder where you stand on equal pay for women."

Damon hid his grin behind a napkin, wiping away something imaginary. This should be interesting.

"Ah, well…I didn't think you worked, Mrs Whitmore." Liam's smile slips a little.

"I have been in the work force since I was fourteen years old."

"Yes, but you no longer work, correct? Maybe we should talk about my stance on charter schools or—"

"I do work." Kerris raised both brows and rested her elbows on the table. "I'm a business owner, and I would never pay a woman less than a man or a man less than a woman doing the same job."

Never able to resist a scrimmage, Damon added his two cents.

"It is a great question, Davis. I'm interested to hear your answer."

The look he aimed at Damon was loaded with quickly veiled malevolence. They hadn't known each other long, but it didn't take long for them to dislike each other.

"What are you, Salvatore?" he asked. "A feminist?"

"Aren't you?"

"Excuse me?" Liam's brows elevate.

"By definition, a feminist is someone who believes in social, political, and economic equality between the sexes." Damon paused, giving him the condescending grin he gave Kerris a few moments ago. "Surely any reasonable person in this millennium, in this hemisphere, certainly at this table, would be a feminist."

Enzo cleared his throat, the "shut your damn mouth" signal they had worked out between them. He thought Liam could be an ally. Damon didn't believe in keeping his enemies that close.

Elena stood up without another word, drawing questioning eyes from everyone at the table.

"Powder room." Her voice came out strong, but Damon was close enough to see the mad pulse thumping at her throat. "I will be…I will be back."

When Damon and Enzo were last in Kenya, they went on safari and saw a ravenous lion pursuing an antelope. There had been no hope of safety for the beast. The kill, inevitable and savage. The lion, a beautiful predator, greedily devoured the prey before their eyes, not even acknowledging his rapt voyeurs. As Damon watched the slim, vibrant line of Elena's body fleeing the room, he had no idea why, but he felt that same guilt. Like he had stood by and watched something awful without raising his hand or voice to help.


	4. Chapter 4

Elena studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror, but she didn't see a polished, poised woman with sleek hair, a pop of matte red lipstick, and lash extensions. Instead another girl, younger, with smudged lips, hair spilled around her shoulders, and angry, red welts at her wrists stared back at her. She heard her jagged inhales, the way her breaths dragged over her quivering lips. The stench of her fear churned the dinner in her stomach, and nausea flooded her mouth. She swore she had exiled the girl for good. She was handled. She was dealt with, but now she was back.

 _Weak bitch,_ she cursed herself.

Elena thought she had gotten rid of her once and for all, but it only took him slithering back into her life to open the door for that weakling child to come out whimpering. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was determined that weakling child would be gone.

She opened her eyes and jumped a little when she found Kerris's amber-flecked gaze reflecting back to her in the mirror over her shoulder. The last time they were in a bathroom together, they weren't exactly sharing lipstick and tampons. She had told Elena that Aaron was hers and she had no plans of letting him go—ever. Elena hated her that night, but maybe she also respected her a little for the first time.

"We have to stop meeting this way, Kerris." Elena tugged at the plunging neckline of her dress. "Aaron sent you?"

Kerris leaned against the wall by the door and bit her bottom lip before speaking.

"He was worried about you." Kerris cleared her throat and a path for the next words. "He is outside in the hall."

Elena checked her hair one last time.

"He has nothing to worry about."

"You seemed…I don't know, disturbed. Was it that Liam guy?"

"Liam Davis does not disturb me." Elena turned to face her, propping her backside against the marble counter. "Why would he? You can let Aaron know I'm fine."

"Or you could come out and tell him yourself." Kerris didn't look away from Elena's steady, blank stare.

Elena was just now realizing that what she took for timidity in Aaron's little wife might be quiet strength. Their lives couldn't have been more different. Kerris spent her early years in foster homes, bounced around and abused. Elena, on the other hand, was cultivated like a pearl, protected from harm and born to rule. Kerris didn't know they might have more in common than she would assume. More in common than Elena wanted to share.

In the six years since Elena first met Kerris, a lot had changed for the both of them. Elena had so much to prove to the world, to herself, to her parents, most of the time she didn't care who she trampled to prove it. With Kerris, looked like she tried, but didn't trample her. There was a confidence in her now that had little to do with the money that came with Aaron, and a lot more to do with the way he loved her.

"Tell Aaron I will be out in a minute," Elena told her.

With a quick nod Kerris turned to go, but Elena surprised herself by stopping her with, of all things, a compliment.

"That is a fabulous necklace, by the way."

With her hand on the door handle, Kerris went stiff and looked at Elena over her shoulder like the Wicked Witch of the West just gave her a Christmas present. She must think Elena's compliment might explode at her feet.

What made Elena stop her? Maybe it was a diversion, a distraction from what was out there. Or maybe she just loved fabulous jewellery. It could really be a little bit of both.

"Um, you mean this necklace?" Kerris ran her fingers over the rounded stones strung together like pearls around her neck, but coloured a distressed teal.

"Yes, it is unique. Where did you get it?"

"It is one of mine actually." A small smile tugged at Kerris's lips.

"Obviously it is one of yours, but where did you buy it?"

"No, I mean it is from my Riverstone Collection. I make the jewellery myself."

Oh. Elena had forgotten about her jewellery line. She wasn't in the city when it launched, but she was sure she wasn't invited. They didn't exactly socialize outside of Whitmore functions.

"Nice." Elena waved her hand like a sceptre towards the door. "You can go now and tell Aaron there is no need to wait. I'm fine."

Elena knew she should have let Kerris go when she had the chance; now Kerris was lingering. Hesitating. Grappling with her misplaced compassion.

"That is the closest to a moment as we are likely to have, Kerris." Elena plasticized a smile. "You should probably go before the full moon comes and I turn bitch again."

Kerris must believe her because she left without so much as a chuckle. Elena needed the quiet, the space she left behind, to pull what remains of her shit together. Mentally, she reached for the affirmations her therapist taught her all those years ago. Those words that empowered her to, day by day, reconstruct herself, but she was empty-handed. It had been so long since she needed them. Now that she did, they eluded her.

"You haven't needed them." Elena turned back to the mirror to tell her reflection. "And you don't now. They are just words. I don't care who is out there."

Who was in the mirror? The leather-tough, butter-smooth woman Elena had spent the last ten years creating? Or that snivelling girl who used to wake up screaming and shivering and sweating because of him?

It was Elena. The version of herself that did whatever it took to survive. She marshalled all her forces and stepped into the hall. Aaron straightened from the wall and approached her, concern all over his face. How did he end up such a good guy? With Nathan Whitmore as a father? She really wanted to know, because she hadn't figured out how to escape her DNA. It must have been Aaron's mother who tempered that ruthlessness that lived in Nathan Whitmore.

"I had no idea Liam would be here." Aaron shoved his hands in his pockets. "I haven't seen him since high school. I didn't know we had any business with him."

"Daddy is buying himself a senator." Elena leaned against the wall Aaron just abandoned, flexing her toes in the beautiful shoes that were just starting to hurt. "Think of all the legislation we can corrupt with a senator in our pocket."

Aaron huffed a heavy breath and ran one hand through his hair. He knew Elena was right.

"We should have handled this years ago, Elena, when you told me what happened."

Elena focused on the span of floor between their feet. She couldn't look at Aaron right now without seeing that girl, without feeling her shame and despair. And with that monster only a dining room away, she couldn't afford those emotions. They woull cost her, and she needed every advantage at her disposal.

"We did handle it, Aaron."

Aaron tipped her chin up with a gentle finger, his eyes dark and tortured.

"I have never forgiven myself for not turning him in."

"By the time you found out, it was too late. It was my choice, not yours, and it was the right choice for me."

"But he never paid. He never answered for what he did to you. He—"

"Don't you dare say it." Elena's voice was an outraged hiss in the confines of the hall. "Don't you ever give him that much power over me again, Aaron."

"But, Elena, he about to become a damn senator. We could still tell the truth about what happened and—"

"I didn't want to ten years ago, and I certainly don't want to now. If it hadn't been for a drunken night in Paris, you wouldn't even know." She rested her fists on her hips. "It happened to me, so it is still up to me, right?"

"It is not right to—"

"You don't get to determine what is wrong or right for me." Anger and frustration, maybe fear, sharpened her tongue and dulled her discretion. "You have your perfect life. Whitmore Enterprises will be yours soon. You have your perfect wife. Your perfect kids with another perfect child on the way. Why do you give a damn what I do or don't do?"

Aaron's eyes narrowed and his jaw hardened the way Elena knew meaning he was about to sort her shit out, but a small motion behind them grabbed their attention. Kerris stood there, eyes wided, gripping her phone.

"Speaking of your perfect wife," Elena snapped, rolling her eyes. "Here she is now."

Kerris didn't know what to make of Elena. A few minutes ago, she was complimenting her taste in jewellery and acting the closest she had ever come to being nice to her. Now the bitch was back. Her head was spinning, too.

"Um, the sitter just called." Kerris trained her eyes on Aaron, ignoring Elena. "The girls have a fever."

Aaron squeezed the bridge of his nose, something Elena had seen Uncle Nathan did a thousand times. He palmed his neck, head bent towards the floor, and looked up at Elena.

"I have to go." He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, a gesture she didn't deserve after the vitriol she just spewed at him. "We still need to talk about this. If your father knew—"

"Don't bother." Elena jerked back from his hand and pressed her shoulders into the wall. "I'm not changing my mind."

Kerris hovered just down the hall, wearing the anxiety for her little girls between her eyebrows and around her tightened lips.

"Go to your family, Aaron. I will be fine."

He hesitated, but after a few seconds moved down the hall and grabbed Kerris's hand. He kissed her fingers, wrapped around his, like he couldn't help it. Like when he was that close to her, he couldn't resist expressing how much he loved her. It was salt in a wound that shouldn't still hurt. Elena didn't love Aaron anymore, if she ever really did. It was so hard to sort out the imaginations of their youth from what was real. When they were young, they felt things so deeply, how could it not be real? How could it not be right? But as she looked at them, hands twined, walking so close even light didn't intrude, she knew what right looked like.

"Hey, Aaron," Elena called out against her better judgment.

Aaron stopped and looked back at her. So did Kerris.

"I'm…I'm sorry."

Aaron grinned, that rakish slash across his handsome face that had grabbed more than one heart. That once held hers.

"You know I know that." He kept walking, but waved over his head at her. "You want me to make your excuses so you don't have to go back?"

"Yeah, send Matt here and we will leave through the back."

Elena didn't have the energy to wriggle on a hook for that prize-size fish Damon Salvatore. He was the kind of man who required all the wits, and hers were scattered all around at that moment. As handsome as he was, as intrigued as she was—she couldn't tonight. Her father could catch his own damn fish.


	5. Chapter 5

Damon and Enzo had endured ceremonies in developing nations, on other continents, that lasted days. Interminable rites of passage. Festivals they thought would never end, but none as intolerable as his time at this table with Grayson Gilbert and Liam Davis. Maybe Damon was hasty in saying this, but he didn't think so. They might quite possibly be two of the biggest assholes he had ever encountered, and considering the corrupt leaders in the nations where they did business, that was saying something.

Damon stopped following Liam's diatribe on redistricting about ten minutes ago. He was considering fake choking, thinking the Heimlich manoeuvre would break the conversation up nicely, when Aaron and Kerris returned to the table. No Elena in sight. He looked over Aaron's shoulder to make sure. A woman who looked so beautiful would be hard to overlook, especially one who looked like Elena, but he checked anyway.

"We need to go. The girls have a fever." Aaron frowned while Kerris grabbed her bag from the table. "Where is Matt?"

"He saw an old college teammate," Damon answered, grateful his vocal chords didn't atrophy during Liam's filibuster. "Said he would be back in a few. Everything okay?"

Aaron's frown deepened, his eyes narrowing when they connected with Liam's. Liam gave him glare for glare. _What is up with these two?_ Damon wondered. _Seems to be more than the typical alpha male, my-dick-is-bigger vibe_. But he couldn't figure out what.

"When he gets back, tell him Elena is ready to go." Aaron directed the response to Elena's mother. "She is not feeling well, Aunt Miranda. Matt can find her outside the restrooms."

"She is not coming back?" Miranda Grayson crinkled her brows. "I will go check on her."

"I don't think there is any need for that." Kerris offered a kind smile. "Seems she just needed some air and time to recover, and is really tired. Maybe just send Matt back and it should be fine."

 _Something is not right,_ Damon thought. The unease on Aaron Whitmore's face was about more than just his twin girls' fevers.

"I will see you two tomorrow, right?" Aaron split a look between Damon and Enzo. "Bright and early at Augustine?"

"Yes." Enzo's smile was a little too eager for Damon's liking. "Nine o'clock. We are looking forward to it."

Enzo was ready to move on. To do something different. Something that didn't keep him in third world countries half the year, with limited access to ESPN. They had made a hell lot of money since they left Princeton, and he was ready to enjoy it. Damon got that, but they didn't start Mystic primarily to make money, and that wouldn't be the deciding factor in why or to whom they would sell it. So Augustine Enterprises and any other takers could flash vulgar amounts of cash in their faces, should they choose. Damon was not moved by it.

"Did I miss the memo about the meeting, Aaron?" Grayson scowled.

"Our assistants spoke, I believe. Celeste should have it on your calendar." Aaron took Kerris's elbow. "Karma confirmed with her. We need to get home. Good night."

Grayson's frown only deepened as he watched Aaron and Kerris walked away. It couldn't be easy for him to see Aaron, a man half his age, taking over the company he built right alongside Aaron's father. While Damon felt for the older man, he didn't much like him, and probably wouldn't consider Augustine Enterprises at all if Aaron wasn't at the table. For one thing, the way the man treated his daughter rubbed him the wrong way.

Speaking of…

"I will be right back." Damon scooted his seat back and stood.

"Where are you going?" Enzo looked at him.

"I know we have been friends a long time, Enzo," Damon said with a grin. "But I'm still not ready to go to the bathroom in pairs like girls."

Enzo's face reddened and he rolled his eyes.

"I will be ready to leave when you get back, I think." He spooned up some of his crème brûlée. "Rose wants to meet at seven tomorrow morning."

Rose ran a tight ship. Even now she was back at Damon's brother place in Brooklyn, prepping for tomorrow's meetings and their trip to Cambodia. Damon had been looking forward to getting off this continent, but meeting Elena tonight made him wish they didn't have this three-week interruption in their New York trip.

"I will be right back."

 _Why am I seeking out Elena?_ Damon couldn't stop asking himself. _What is this about?_ So she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen in real life. Looks counted for something with him like most men, but not for everything, and from what he had heard, she probably didn't have much else to offer. But there was this gulf between what he had heard and the woman he met tonight. Maybe the gulf was filled with his preconceived notions.

Damon saw her slumped against the wall as soon as he rounded the corner, shoes kicked off and wiggling her bare toes. Even witnessing her posture less than perfectly straight, perfectly erect felt like a violation of her privacy. She looked up, squinting into the semi-dark passageway. Damon could see her much better than she could see him.

"Matt?" Elena straightened from the wall, her expression becoming annoyed when she realized it was not the quarterback. "You have got to be kidding me. How many more people have to come through here? What is this? A parade?"

"Oh, I'm sorry for stumbling into your private boudoir." Damon leaned one shoulder against the wall beside her, stepping close enough to smell the fresh scent she had been tantalizing him with all night. "I thought these were public bathrooms."

Elena held his gaze in the dim light for a few seconds, not even blinking. Then her lips twitched and spread over the smile people pay to see. From a billboard, that smile hit you like a gut punch. This close, the impact was practically atomic.

"Boudoir?" A husky chuckle suffused the space separating them. "Did you seriously just break out 'boudoir'?"

She propped her butt against the wall and bent at the waist, slipping on one shoe and then the other. Even the high arch of this woman's foot was sexy. Every detail Damon uncovered made him want to go deeper until he had discovered them all.

He smiled. "I like you. You know how to laugh. I like a woman who can laugh at herself."

His eyes followed the impossibly long line of her legs over the subtle curve of her hips and the surprising lushness of her breasts until he finally reached her waiting gaze, which asked if he had looked his fill.

"I wasn't laughing at myself." Elena grinned again and inclined her head towards him. "I was laughing at you."

"I will settle for that. Long as you are laughing."

Elena was not grinning anymore, the humour falling away as quickly as it came. She looked back down the passageway, sleek brows knitting together.

"Did Aaron tell Matt to come?"

"Matt saw a college buddy and stepped away. I'm sure he will be down as soon as he gets back to the table and they tell him you are ready to leave."

Elena moved over to a padded leather bench against the opposite wall, seating herself and crossing one leg over the other. She shifted her eyes from Damon to the men's room and back again.

"I thought you needed that public restroom." She gave a regal nod of her head towards the bathroom. "It is right there."

"I don't actually have to use the bathroom."

Damon left it there, waiting for her to ask the obvious question, but he got the feeling Elena Gilbert never did the obvious. She leaned her back into the wall and narrowed her eyes, waiting for him to go on.

"I came to find you."

She tilted her head and raised both brows, conducting a wordless conversation using only her patrician features.

"Can I ask you a question?"

She nodded, confirming that he still hadn't earned words yet.

"Why are you with Matt?"

Elena sank deeper into the wall, sliding a few inches down and stretching her legs in front of her to cross them at the ankles

"Why wouldn't I be?" she finally asked. "Haven't you read the papers? We are the perfect couple."

"He bores you out of your mind."

"No, sex with him drives me out of my mind."

If she was going for shock value, that did it. Only their eyes locked and Damon realized she was not trying to shock him. She was just telling the truth. Her gaze was frank and honest.

"That is all you want in a relationship?" He hazarded a step closer before dropping to the other end of her bench and leaning his back against her wall.

That husky laugh permeated the air in the passageway again.

"Look, Dr Phil, I'm not one of those sweet girls looking for some man to sweep me off my feet and put a ring on it." Elena crossed both arms over her flat stomach, a cynical twist corrupting the beautiful curve of her mouth. "At least not anymore."

"Kissed too many frogs?"

"Make no mistake about it. Those frogs and I did more than kiss." Her smile exuded a sexual confidence Damon was unused to from the women in his circles, but that he found by the second he more than liked it. "It is not so much that I can't find my prince, as that I'm no princess."

Damon took in the symmetry of her face, the elegant arch of her brows, the vibrant brown doe eyes, the high slant of her cheekbones, and that lush curve of lips like a splash of passion on an otherwise pristine plane. The graceful bearing, even relaxed against the wall, commanded attention and respect. Elena Gilbert looked like nothing if not a young queen.

He was just about to tell her so when approaching footsteps cut their conversation short. He turned, disappointed to see Matt striding quickly up the hall. Elena stood immediately, grabbing her clutch from the bench and looking down at him. Their eyes connected, and he wondered if she wished they had a few more minutes alone. Probably not, but there was something hiding behind those eyes. Curiosity? Interest? Whatever it was, it would take longer than two minutes for her to trust him with it.

"Sorry, baby." Matt's huge quarterback hands almost met around Elena's slim waist when he pulled her close. "I saw Tyler Lockwood from college. Can you believe that? Small world, right?"

Elena smiled and gave a quick nod.

"Can we just go?" She gave a practiced pout of that lush mouth. "I'm exhausted and have to be up really early."

"Of course," Matt said. "The car is waiting. We can stay at your place."

Matt looked at Damon down on the bench. That last comment was for Damon's benefit. Matt was marking his territory. Damon knew he should tell him Elena was much less subtle about his virility, but he didn't bother. There wasn't much more to Matt than what one could see. All-American good looks. Athletic and not too bright. But Elena? She reminded him of one of the African mines they had visited, diamonds so deeply embedded in the earth children risked life and limb to retrieve them. That was Elena. Somehow even after just tonight, Damon knew her diamonds were buried deep, and retrieving them would prove dangerous and rewarding.

 _You don't meet someone like Elena Gilbert every day,_ Damon thought and he wondered if this would be the only time they encountered each other. If it would be a story he told his grandchildren. He met that famous model once. She wasn't a bitch at all. She was beautiful and funny and honest, and he wanted to punch her boyfriend in the face every time he touched her. He just met her the one time, but he would never forget.

Matt guided Elena down the hall towards a rear exit, and she looked back over her shoulder, their eyes connecting for an extra few seconds before she looked straight ahead and was swallowed up by the dark. Damon could be wrong, but he believed she would have liked five more minutes with him. As eager as she was to leave, he might intrigued her as much as she increasingly intrigued him and like he did with everything else in his life that counted, he made up his mind quickly, decisively.

No, that wouldn't be the story he told his grandchildren.


	6. Chapter 6

"Elena, you are dreaming…"

He pawed her breasts and pinched her nipples so hard it felt like needles piercing the flesh, sharp and painful. He shackled her wrist, but she jerked against his strength. Her heart slammed into her breastbone. She was a live wire soaked in water. She was—

"Elena, wake up!"

The voice, insistent at Elena's ear, jerked her out of the nightmare she was buried alive in. Her eyes snapped open, immediately colliding with Matt's blue gaze above her, his toned bare chest hovering over her, his arms caging her on either side.

"I'm sorry." Matt frowned, easing away and off her a little at a time. "I was just…"

Elena shoved him harder than she meant to in her haste to get out of the bed. She flipped back the quilted comforter and scrambled across her bedroom and into the light-filled bathroom. Nausea churned everything left in in her stomach from last night before propelling all four courses into the toilet. She curled her legs beneath her on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, resting her temple against the porcelain seat.

It wasn't Matt's fault. He wasn't aware of the nightmare she hadn't had in years. She couldn't even remember the last time that demon visited her bed, but seeing Liam last night stirred it all up again. Brought all the things she thought were dead and dormant back to horrible life.

"You okay, Elena?" Matt asked from the bathroom door, his voice uncertain.

They weren't that couple who discussed real problem. They had never shared real things. They were that couple who smiled for cameras and posed together and screwed each other's brains out, but didn't know each other's birthdays or middle names. And Elena liked it that way. After seeing Liam last night, she wasn't in the frame of mind to deal with breaking things off with Matt. Frankly, she was still not, but it was coming soon.

"I'm fine, Matt." Her eyes drifted over his well-conditioned body in just briefs. Maybe she was not all right if that package didn't even stir her. "Sorry about that. I guess I was having a bad dream or something."

"Are you sure you are okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Elena stood up and crossed over to her closet with its shelves of shoes, rows and rows of dresses and jeans, drawers and bins of accessories. She tossed her nightgown into the hamper and started the shower. She was soaping up when she felt Matt at her back.

"A nice shower together will make you feel good." His husky voice was almost lost in the shower spray and steam. He nudged between her butt cheeks. "Come on, baby."

Elena couldn't. She could still feel that dream like hot breath on her neck. Her nipples still ached from the phantom pain. And although it was empty, her belly twisted with nausea again at the thought of anyone inside her.

"I'm late, Matt." She turned towards him, careful to insert space between their bodies. "Maybe later."

She started shampooing her hair without waiting for his response.

"Something wrong, Elena?" A frustrated breath huffed across his lips. "You didn't want to last night either."

Now he was getting on her nerves. No one was entitled to her body. She chose who she shared it with, on her terms. They just had sex yesterday morning. He couldn't twenty-four hours without making himself and his dick a nuisance?

"I said I'm running late, Matt." Still lathering her hair, Elena faced the shower wall and sprinkle steel shaving into her voice, warning him in the subtlest way she could to back off. "Now are you planning to shower, or are you just in here taking up my steam?"

"Sorry, Elena, I—"

"Could you close the door behind you?" She gave him a semi-sweet smile over one bare, soapy shoulder, ignoring his eyes roving her naked back. "Thanks."

Elena had to end this. And she knew she was not crazy.

Once she was dressed, in slim black pants, stiletto ankle boots, and a silky mist-coloured camisole under her black lambskin blazer, she felt a little more like herself. Clothes always added an expensive, protective layer to cover up whatever she needed the world to overlook.

Matt had stayed over enough that he had a few things here now, so he was at the kitchen bar dressed in jeans and a Jets T-shirt, eating a slice of cantaloupe. Elena packed her iPad and essentials for today's meetings, mentally running the schedule as much to clear her head as to make sure she didn't forget anything.

"So should I pick you up tonight?" Matt asked between juicy bites.

"Sorry." She tucked a few stray hairs into her high-swept ponytail. "What?"

"The rooftop party Whitmore is throwing." Matt looked like he would whine if she said she had changed her mind about attending. "We are still going, right?"

"Of course." Elena picked up her bag and checked her phone. "Baker is downstairs waiting."

"Should I pick you up here tonight?" Matt frowned, maybe starting to sense that she was pulling away.

"No, I'm not sure how my day is going. I will probably dress at the office." She curved her lips just so. "Let's meet at the party."

Elena was out the door and at the elevator before he could protest anymore. The black Infiniti QX80 idled in front of her apartment building, Baker, her father's driver, waiting to open the back door for her. She pecked his cheek just to see his face redden and his stern mouth yielded a tiny smile.

Baker had been driving her father all over this city for twenty years. If Aaron were ever unable to run Augustine, Baker probably knew just as much as her father and could step in without a hitch. He had overheard and forgotten more about Augustine Enterprises than most of its executives would ever know.

"Thanks for the ride, Baker." Elena met his eyes in the rear-view mirror. "I suppose Daddy has been at the office for hours already."

"He went in rather late this morning, Miss G. Not until eight."

Over the years, Nathan Whitmore and her father set a high bar for everyone else, always at their desks and decimating other companies by six most mornings, seven on slack days. Elena knew for a fact. Aaron arrived even earlier than that many mornings.

They fell into a comfortable silence, and she looked over her notes for the meeting ahead. Soon they were in front of the Augustine building, and Baker was opening the back door for her to exit.

"Will you need a ride to the party tonight?" Baker took her hand to help her down to the sidewalk. "Or will Mr Donovan be taking you?"

"Neither, actually. I will make my own way."

"You often do, Miss G." His face and tone relaxed. "May I ask if you and Mr Donovan are still…together?"

He had earned these personal questions. When Elena was growing up, her father had time only for Augustine Enterprises, and her mother thrived at the epicentre of New York City's social scene. Sometimes Baker ended up being the closest thing to an actual parent she had, answering awkward adolescent questions and making sure she made it home from cheerleader practice each afternoon.

"We are still together for now." She glanced up the bustling block before looking back to Baker's deliberately stoic features. "You don't like him very much, do you? Matt, I mean."

"He is not for me to like or not like, Miss G." He crinkled only the corners of his eyes. "He does have a great arm."

Elena teased him with a wicked smile.

"It is not exactly his arm I'm interested in, Baker."

Nothing like seeing a grown man blush, she thought, and Baker made it fun to be outrageous.

"Why, I think you are blushing, Baker."

"One day I will figure out how to make you blush again, Miss G."

"Me blushing would be my face's idea of sarcasm." She straightened her blazer and glanced at her watch. "I need to get on in. Thanks again for the ride."

The elevators at this time of morning took forever, so when Elena saw a set of doors opened, she rushed across the lobby.

"Hold the elevator!" She called out with little hope that someone actually would

A hand pressed the door back, and she slipped in, grateful words already spilling out of her mouth.

"Thank you so m—"

A set of blue-grey eyes smiled at her from under a spill of dark brown, almost black hair.

"You were saying?" Damon Salvatore stood there, smelling delicious and looking mouth-watering in a grey three-piece suit. Elena loved men in pink, and his bold choice of a pink silk shirt beneath his vest, no tie, exposing the strength of his neck got his vote.

"Thank you," Elena finished, noticing for the first time that the elevator was crowded with other people, including Enzo St John and Karma Sutton, Aaron's assistant. "Good morning, Mr St John, Karma."

"Good morning, Miss Gilbert," Karma said, British accent crisp. "I meant to tell you I saw you walk Chanel in London. You were flawless."

At her words, Elena sensed interest pique around her as people realized it was not their imagination, but they did actually know her from a billboard or grocery store magazine. She would be glad when the elevator car emptied. She was going to the top, so it should soon.

"Thanks, Karma." She fixed her eyes on the climbing numbers illuminated above their heads.

"When is your next show?"

"Um, I don't have a show booked." Elena gave her a smile, starting to care less if anyone else was listening. "I have been walking runways since I was eighteen years old. I think I will leave it to the youngsters from now on. Maybe it is time to retire."

"But you are the Goddess." Karma sounded so dismayed she had to laugh a little.

"Ten years is a long time." Elena studied her boots, determined not to look at Damon Salvatore, even though she felt those intense blue-grey eyes pressing on her. "I'm ready for something else."

As much as she had enjoyed her run modelling, Elena knew it was not a game she could stay on top of indefinitely. A wrinkle here. Fine lines there. The bar was perfection, and no one could clear it forever. She wanted to exit gracefully and on her terms, not be chased out by some idiots who only wanted to photograph nineteen-year-olds.

They had stopped several times, emptying along the way until it was just the four of them now, headed towards the thirty-fifth floor, which housed Augustine's most senior level executives. And her for now.

"Is the office to your liking?" Karma asked.

"Yes." Elena gave Karma a warm smile. "I appreciate your help. It is lovely, and exactly what my team needs."

"You have an office here?" Damon asked, forcing Elena to at least give him a glance. Still mouth-watering, towering over them all, the breadth of his shoulders swelling in the perfectly tailored jacket. And what did he do to get those muscles in his thighs? Elena wondered. No businessman should have all that body. His suit was like a silk cage barely containing a lion.

"Yes." No more. No less.

"I didn't think models needed offices."

"You pay him to think?" Elena directed the question to his partner, Enzo, who swallowed a laugh, his eyes twinkling back at her.

"He doesn't pay me at all." Damon's wide smile sketched dimples in the lean cheeks.

Elena couldn't deny the fact that he looked gorgeous at that moment. _Death by dimples,_ she thought.

"So what is your office for?" Damon was persistent. She would give him that.

"It is a temporary office while my permanent spot is being renovated." She wondered if he would notice that she didn't actually answer his question.

"And what business do you conduct in this temporary office?"

Elena turned her head, giving him the full benefit of the face he had been staring at in profile ever since she boarded this elevator.

"It is a business I like to call mind your own business." Her voice was saccharine and artificially sweet.

Damon's blue-grey eyes narrowed on her, but his smile remained even when Enzo and Karma snickered. Elena knew because her heart kept tripping over itself every time he flashed those damn dimples at her.

Before he could poke his nose any further into her business, the elevator stopped for the top floor. She divided a smile equally between the three of them, maybe giving Damon a slightly smaller portion than Enzo and Karma.

"Enjoy your day, gentlemen." She stepped off the elevator and turned right, knowing they were probably headed left towards her father's or Aaron's suite of offices. "Thanks again, Karma, for your help."

Every confident, long-legged step put much-needed distance between Damon Salvatore and her. For some reason, she glanced back over her shoulder. She was startled to find him standing at the other end of the hall, hands shoved into his pockets, jacket pushed back to show that taut waist widening up to the long, broad torso. He was watching her walk away while Enzo and Karma continued in the other direction. Elena didn't stop, but aimed a discouraging frown at him, hoping he got the message to leave her alone. Maybe he had misread the message, because he merely grinned and saluted her before he turned to follow his partner and Aaron's assistant.

Damon had a bad case of social blindness, she decided. She couldn't get much ruder without jeopardizing his business with Augustine. _What does he want?_ She wondered. _Why is he acting this way?_ He was one of her father's fish. She was bait. She was just supposed to draw him out, convince him that Augustine was the best option. Let her breasts did the talking, except something went terribly wrong, and now Elena thought that she might like him.

She didn't expect to see him again. She didn't expect him to disturb her the way he did; to disrupt her equilibrium. And between the business venture she was getting off the ground, a monster named Liam Davis re-entering her life, and a past-due quarterback in her bed, her equilibrium had enough to manage without a lumberjack in a three-piece suit making her heart skipped a beat or two every time he was within dry-humping distance.

Elena shoved those weak-minded thoughts aside when she entered her tiny, luxurious space at Augustine Enterprises. It was only hers for the next two weeks, but it was chic and gorgeous, decorated in icy blues and misty greys, glass desktops and delicate furniture populating the two rooms she had been temporarily assigned. As soon as she crossed the threshold, a slim hand with rings on every finger except the thumb proffered a cup of steaming coffee.

"Ah, Caroline, you are worth your weight in chocolate." Elena grabbed the coffee and slurped greedily. "I thought I was going to have to set up a caffeine IV. Thank you."

Her assistant, formerly her makeup artist, Caroline Forbes was one of her few true friends. In this transition from model to mogul, Caroline was her right hand. She was helping her keep life on kilter.

Caroline always had the most organized station at the shows, all her pots and potions and liners and lipsticks almost OCD level neat. She brought that same obsessive attention to detail to Elena's life. Thank God someone could, Elena thought.

"The rest lands in half." Caroline followed her into the larger office, where they had placed her desk.

They had their own verbal shorthand, Caroline and her. They could conduct entire conversations in a roomful of people and no one be the wiser of what they were actually saying.

"Oh, good." Elena settled behind her desk and into the lumbar-loving leather seat moulding the line of her body. "Thirty minutes to do a few things. I'm ready when they get here."

"How was last night?" Caroline leaned her too-slim petite frame against the doorjamb. She was not too slim because she didn't eat. The girl had a "man meets food" appetite. She just also happened to have the metabolism of a hamster on Ritalin.

"It was okay." Elena kept her face neutral. She really didn't feel like rehashing being at the table with Aaron and Kerris, or seeing Liam Davis again, or why that was a bad thing. And she certainly didn't want to talk about Damon Salvatore.

"Did you do it?"

"Do what?" She raised cautious eyes to Elena. They had been through some wild times together. There was no telling what Caroline thought she was going to do last night.

"Break it off with Matt last night." Caroline rested her fist on one hip. "Or was it an 'o' for the road?"

"Neither. I didn't break it off, and no orgasm as a parting gift. So the night was truly a bust."

"Tonight then?"

"Maybe after the party." Elena grimaced, taking a sip of her caffeinated lifeblood. "The break, I mean. I think I'm done with the sex. It has to be soon. If he used his tongue only to service me, we could probably stretch this out, but he keeps….."

"Talking?"

"Yes!" Elena slapped her forehead. "He keeps talking, and it is driving me batty."

"He could use that tongue for so much good." Caroline shook her head and sighed. "I'm sorry he doesn't know when to shut up."

"C'est la vie, yeah?"

"Yep. Just be gentle. He seems kind of fragile to me."

"Fragile?" Elena scoffed. "Matt is tough as nails. We both knew this was no grand love affair. Just sex and fun."

"Okay, well, you know what you are doing. I'm going to get ready for the meeting."

"Me, too."

Elena pulled out her iPad, and instead of pulling up the figures for her meeting, seemingly without her permission, her fingers typed "Damon Salvatore" in the search bar. He had a TED talk? Who had TED talks? The word "incite" snared her attention, and she clicked on the video link. He was addressing a group of college students at a university, dressed more casually than she had seen him so far. He wore a Kelly green T-shirt and dark wash jeans, his ruggedness more pronounced in the less formal clothing. He turned to a whiteboard to write, and her jaw almost hit the desk.

That ass. Tight and round and muscular, she wanted to take a bite. To pluck it like she was testing ripe fruit. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, imagining what he must look like without the wrapping. She needed to know how a Princeton dropout turned businessman got this body. She was so caught up in how good he looked, she almost missed what he was saying, but the urgency of his tone arrested her attention.

"It was my junior year at Princeton." He faced the lecture hall packed with students. "As part of a course study on international business, my then-roommate Enzo St John and I spent the summer visiting Southeast Asian and African countries. I was struck by how lands so rich in natural resources had such poverty. We were just a few days away from returning to the States when I experienced an inciting incident that would change the course of my life."

He propped himself on the desk, connecting his eyes with as many of the students as he could from his spot at the front of the room. He folded his arms, biceps straining in the short sleeves, across his chest before continuing.

"We were in Indonesia. I had never seen such hunger and poverty, unlike what we call poverty here." Damon's whole expression hardened, so far from the teasing light-hearted man Elena had seen over the last two days, she barely recognized him. "Our global economic system had failed the people there so badly. I'm not one who believes we can take responsibility for everything that goes on everywhere in the world, but dropping food in a place like this was like spitting on a forest fire."

Damon paused, swallowed, stood, and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"A little boy died right in my arms that day. Just breathing one minute and not breathing the next because of hunger. Because of malnutrition. Enzo and I just…well, we just cried that night."

A bomb could go off downstairs and Elena probably wouldn't move. She was as silent as the students listening whenever this was recorded, with bated breath waiting for his next words. She was rapt, and it had nothing to do with how good he looked, or his tight ass, or those broad shoulders. His words were like a fist reaching into her chest and squeezing her heart, massaging the muscle until it beat, maybe for the first time in years.

"And that was when we started envisioning Mystic Corp," Damon said on the video. "We didn't just want to drop aid or food or resources onto people in developing nations, but we wanted to restore power to them, to economically and intellectually empower them so they could generate their own resources. Indigenous people generating indigenous solutions. We used our business understanding to establish these profit-bearing ventures in developing nations all over the world, run and managed by the people in those contexts."

"Everyone is here," Caroline said from the door.

Elena fumbled to stop the video, but Damon's deep voice continued for a few seconds, electrifying the air around them.

"Who is that?" Caroline stepped deeper into the office, leaning over her desk to see Damon on her iPad screen. "Shit, I would climb that mountain."

Elena took the screen dark, irrationally irritated by Caroline's comment. She needed a bib for her drool at the dinner table last night when she saw Damon for the first time, but hearing him discussed that way after what she just heard felt wrong.

"You said they are here?" Elena put on her business face. "Bring them in. We have got a lot of ground to cover."

Elena grabbed the iPad, stood, and crossed over to the glass-and-steel conference room table on the other side of the room, surrounded by chairs just as delicate and tensile as the one at her desk. Soon every seat was filled with the people she had handpicked to help her with what Caroline and she called her passion venture. It was hard to think of something that was this much fun as business.

"So Retreat, as you all know," Elena said, leaning back and crossing her legs at the head of the table, "is a lifestyle website along the lines of Goop or Preserve, but with an edgier, more fashion-insider angle. Me, of course, being the fashion insider."

Everyone at the table grinned or chuckled. Some of them were interns or come-uppers Elena plucked from fashion houses, but most of them were what she liked to call texperts—the technical experts who would be the engine behind the glamour. One of them, April, interned with the Whitmore Foundation last summer. A Columbia graduate, she would help build the charitable arm of the website.

"We have our entire artisan partnerships nailed down." Caroline leveled a hesitant glance across the table at her. "All except one."

"Which one?" Elena tipped her coffee cup all the way back, begging gravity to release one more drop, but nada. "Who haven't we secured?"

"Well, we all love this one jewellery line," Sera, a girl Elena snatched from Calvin Klein, said. "So unique."

"Show me." Elena stretched her hand out for the iPad Sera slid across the conference table. She swiped through the pictures, loving each one more than the last. The use of crude stones in classic settings was especially clever. And oddly familiar.

"I have seen these." Elena squished her brows together. "Where have I seen these?"

"It is the Riverstone Collection." Caroline cleared her throat and brushed her hairs back. "By Kerris Whitmore."

Dammit.

Everyone at this table, everyone in this building, everyone in New York, hell, everybody who was anybody, knew Elena's history with Aaron Whitmore. To think she wanted to work with his wife; the woman who essentially usurped the place she always thought would be hers…

Elena glanced at the iPad again and remembered the piece Kerris was wearing last night at the charity dinner. She also remembered her concern in the bathroom. Whatever she felt for Aaron wasn't much more than an heirloom her parents passed down to her. The sex was great, but she saw them together last night. What Aaron and she had was on a different planet from his connection, his commitment, to Kerris. They had a family, and she had moved on. She had…well, she didn't actually have very much besides her work with the Whitmore Foundation and this site she was starting.

"Put that on my list." Elena didn't look up from the iPad. "I will talk to Kerris myself about partnering with us. Anything else we need to discuss?"

"I'm in communication with Jo Walsh Mitchell about the partnership with the Whitmore Foundation," April said. "We are discussing co-promotion opportunities, brand placement, and other ways we can link the two entities."

"Sounds great." Elena scribbled her name in one of the Moleskine journals she kept handy all the time lately.

"And that illustrator you were interested in using for the site will be at the party tonight." Caroline took a sip of her chai tea latte. "Maybe try to cosy up to her at some point."

"Oh!" Elena looked up from her scribbling, a smile taking over. "She does those Megan Hess kind of drawings, right? Yeah. I will meet her tonight."

She stood, signalling the team that their meeting was over.

"Let me know if you need anything from me. Good meeting, guys. You are doing an amazing job."

Elena took the seat behind her desk, not looking up from the profit projection spread sheet they distributed during the meeting as they all drifted out of the office. Caroline paused at the door, resting her shoulder there.

"François Gerrard sent over some things for you to consider wearing to the party tonight," she said

"Oh?" Elena slid her spread sheets to the side. "Let me see."

Caroline stepped back into the lobby and rolled a garment rack back in. Elena counted six options. Two immediately stood out—a black strapless jumpsuit with dipping cleavage and narrow legs, and a caramel-hued long-sleeve minidress that would probably mould every curve she had got.

"I will probably get ready here, so his timing couldn't be better." Elena ran her hands over her sleek ponytail. "What do you think for my hair and makeup?"

Caroline tilted her head, squeezing on eye closed. She would always be a makeup artist at heart, and Elena trusted her opinion completely.

"You are doing it yourself?"

Elena nodded. After ten years in the hands of the world's greatest makeup artists and stylists, she knew all their tricks and could achieve the same effects when she had to. They talked through a few options until a clear vision for the night emerged.

"I guess François wants you in his stuff as much as possible now that the Goddess deal has been inked." Caroline grinned. "Can you believe you are going to have your own perfume, Elena?"

Elena held her chin in the palm of her hand and tapped her fingers against her face. François was one of the first designers to give her a chance when she was eighteen and had never even walked a runway.

"Well, it is his perfume. He is just using my face to sell it." Elena circled her index finger around the lip of her empty coffee cup, setting aside her cynicism long enough to smile about something she never would have seen coming. "It is pretty cool, though. We should see if he is willing to sell it on Haven."

"Oh, connect the dots." Caroline turned towards the outer office. "I will call his people and set up a meeting. Want a salad from the bistro downstairs?"

"Yes, please." Elena picked up her iPad to review the items they discussed at the meeting. "I'm starving already."

Caroline's high heels echoed across the floor as she left the suite. Down the passageway, Elena heard the elevator dinged for the doors to open. As soon as she knew Caroline was safely descending towards the bistro, she flipped back to her Google search of Damon Salvatore. She watched three more videos, all of them captivating. It wasn't the hint of stubble coating his square chin, or the dimples hole-punching his lean cheeks. Nor was it the intimidating breadth of his shoulders. It was not even that ass that had her watching video after video, reading post after post, article after article about him.

Damon Salvatore tempted her, intrigued her, and even inspired her. Few men had managed to do that all at once. He was a species she had rarely encountered in her years of hurried hook-ups, illicit affairs, and dead-end flirtations.

He was a good man. She had no use for good men, and despite what they might think when they looked at her, they had no use for her. A good man should have a good girl.

But Elena had never been a good girl.


	7. Chapter 7

Damon was not sure this would work.

Aaron Whitmore was brilliant, resourceful, and, from what Damon could tell, a man of integrity. He lived up to and even exceeded his reputation. Unfortunately, so did Grayson Gilbert. Damon was not sure he could do business with that man. Grayson was ruthless, heartless, and Damon was pretty sure he underwent a conscience lobotomy decades ago. After spending the morning meeting with him, Damon could use a full-body soak in hand sanitizer.

"So what did you think?" Enzo asked as they waited for the elevator.

Damon knew Enzo wanted this deal to happen, but they had worked too hard to get Mystic Corp where it was, achieving what it was doing for the people it was helping, to take the first offer that came their way. They were not desperate. They were in pole position. They had made the smart moves to put them there, and Grayson Gilbert wouldn't fool him into thinking differently.

"I didn't like Gilbert's body language when I mentioned keeping indigenous workers," Damon said. "Even when it might be more cost effective to use workers from other nations like India or China."

"He didn't say it would be a problem, Damon." Enzo gave him that long-suffering look he reserved for Damon's "gut" reactions.

"You know as well as I do that most of communication is nonverbal." Damon leaned against the elevator wall while they waited for the elevator car to come. "He isn't saying what he is thinking because he knows we will walk away."

Grayson knew he would walk away. There was already a conflict brewing between the inner warriors tucked neatly away behind their suits. He didn't like Damon, and Damon didn't like him, and they both knew it. But they would just keep grinning until they could put the pretenses aside and bare their teeth at each other.

Damon's guess, based on Grayson's pattern, was that he was digging around for something he could hold over them to force them into his way of thinking before he showed his hand. Unfortunately Damon didn't operate that way, and he would rather get out before Grayson started tampering with the people and things that meant something to him. That wouldn't end well.

For Grayson.

The elevator dinged, the doors open, and Enzo stepped in. It took him a second to realize that Damon was still out.

"What are you—" Understanding dawned on his face. "Aw damn, Salvatore. Leave that woman alone. She is not your type."

"I will catch a cab home." Damon grinned at Enzo and turned to the right, the direction he saw Elena went this morning. "You take the car."

"You will take a cab all the way to Brooklyn?" Enzo said as the doors were closing. "That will cost a fortune."

"Didn't you hear?" Damon said over his shoulder. "We are rich now."

He could only hope there weren't many options down this hall. He could end up looking ridiculous poking his head in every door until he found Elena. It was a cause he was willing to look the fool for, though. Even though Enzo was right. She was not his type. The last woman he dated…hell, he almost married, graduated from Oxford and led a global clean water campaign. Half Kenyan, half British, she could speak four languages and would probably be an ambassador before she was forty.

And the whole time they dated, the whole time they were engaged, never did Damon feel what he felt in the sliver of time he had spent with Elena. Like she was an impossible table puzzle with a million pieces he could spend all afternoon assembling, and never get quite right. Like he would get to the end, and still have these tiny empty spaces where pieces hiding under the couch or lost in the attic should be.

Elena was just…like a mystery.

Damon knew people instinctively. Call it a curse or a gift, but he could see things they tried to hide from him. He had no explanation for how or why he could cut through what people present to who they really were, but he always could. He would never fall for bullshit.

And although Enzo was right about Elena not fitting the usual profile of women he would be interested in, his feet still followed the path he saw her take. That path ended at an open space with a glass reception desk of sorts. No one was seated there, but a clear carry-out container rested on the large, wide marble lip above the desk. It was a grilled chicken salad, and on the container there was a note.

"Sorry, Elena," Damon read aloud. "No artichoke hearts today."

He looked around the small, neat lobby. He was in the right place.

"Caroline, food!" a disembodied voice boomed from the adjacent room. The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, Damon saw Elena's gilded head bent over a stack of papers on her desk. Without a second thought, he grabbed the container and walked into the office.

"It is about damn time." Elena didn't lift her head, but jotted down a note in a Moleskine notebook. "Now I'm hungry."

"Well, they are out of artichoke hearts." Damon set the container on the desk in front of her. "Hope that doesn't make it worse."

Her eyes flew up from her work, meeting his and widening.

When they say this woman was beautiful, they were not telling the half of it. Or maybe they just left out the most important part. It was not the perfection of her features that captivated him. It was all the things hidden behind those brown doe eyes. It was hard not to melt when looking at those eyes

That brief surprised widening of her eyes was the only moment she yielded to him, his last advantage. She recovered quickly, leaning back in her seat and crossing one long leg over the other, clearly a move that usually distracted horny men long enough for her to manipulate them. If she were wearing a skirt, he might have even fallen for it.

"Are you lost?" She raised one dark brow.

"No more than everyone else." Damon settled one butt cheek on the edge of her desk, mostly for show because he was afraid his full weight would topple the little glass table.

"Oh, is this a philosophical discussion then?" Her full lips bent almost undetectably.

"If you would like, I'm down for that."

"Men don't usually want to have philosophical discussions with me."

"I bet they are missing out."

"No, they are not." Elena uncrossed one leg, scooted them both under the desk, and rested her chin on folded hands. "What can I do for you, Mr Salvatore?"

"First, you can call me Damon, or just Salvatore." He gave her a grin. "All my friends do."

Elena didn't bounce a grin back to him.

"How nice for your friends. And you are here because?"

"I was wondering if you are coming to the rooftop party tonight."

She tilted her head, giving him an unblinking stare.

"And that matters to you why?"

"I'm leaving for Cambodia tomorrow, and I wanted to see you again."

A small frown knitted her eyebrows together, and her lashes dropped to hide her eyes.

"I thought you and Enzo were staying in New York for a while."

"We are when we come back, but have some business there first." Damon reached out to lift her chin, forcing her to look at him again. "So will you be there tonight?"

Elena turned her head, subtly freeing herself from his grasp.

"You know I'm dating Matt." She lifted her lashes, giving Damon the full impact of those brown eyes. "Are you in the habit of pursuing another man's girl?"

"No, I have a definite rule about that. I never go after another guy's girl." Damon shook his head. "This isn't pursuit. This is early level mild interest."

"This is early level mild interest?" Elena leaned forward a little, extending her neck for the question. "Following me to the bathroom? Staring at me rudely in elevators? Asking me probing questions in front of strangers? Tracking down my office and arriving unannounced? I would hate to see pursuit."

"I actually think you would like to see pursuit, but we won't know until you kick the quarterback. When is that happening, by the way?"

"I told you sex with him is still driving me out of my mind. Why stop now?"

Elena watched his face closely for the response she wanted from her words. Little did she know it was not his face that was responding. Every time she said the word "sex" he went hard as granite, even though she was talking about it with someone else.

"I think the only way a guy like Matt can hold on to a woman like you is to have sex with her until she is out of her mind, so that is probably his best strategy. If you stop having sex with him long enough to come to your senses, I would like to take you to dinner."

"Dinner?" Her laugh was like cream, rich and decadent. "Why don't you say what you really want?"

"I just did. I always do."

"Well, it is a moot point since I'm with Matt and you are off to Cambodia and I doubt we will cross paths again."

"You didn't answer my question. Will you be at the rooftop party tonight or not?"

Her smile faded to nothing and she blinked several times.

"I will be there with my boyfriend."

"I will respect that, of course." Damon straightened from the little glass structure he almost crushed. "But once he is out of the picture, which we both know he will be soon, all bets are off, and I'm formally warning you that we go from early level mild interest to full-on pursuit."

"You can pursue all you want, but that doesn't mean you will succeed."

"That is like pouring gasoline on a kitchen fire with somebody like me. My high school guidance counsellor told me that about going to Princeton, but I got in on a football scholarship. My parents warned me about leaving college to start Mystic, and it has turned out pretty well for me."

"Is that what I am to you, then?" Elena looked at Damon unsmilingly. "A challenge? Something to be achieved?"

"I think you are a woman who hasn't even begun to show the world who she is." Damon considered her for an extra second. "I think in some ways that is something you are still trying to figure out yourself, and people engaged in that process fascinate me."

"I think the world and I both already know who I am." The look Elena gave him was supposed to be a dismissal, but he was too much of a stubborn goat to read it as one. "Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do."

So I will see her once more before they fly out tomorrow, Damon said to himself. Another chance to chip away at that sparkling armour. He walked back towards the door, pausing by the garment rack. His imagination put her in the dark brown minidress, and he practically drooled.

"I like the brown dress, by the way."

He shouldn't have said it. She would wear something else just to spite him. That was okay, though. With this woman, even spite was an aphrodisiac.


	8. Chapter 8

It was not quite five o'clock when Elena made her way towards her father's office, hoping she could speak to him before he finished for the day. He usually had clothes here so he didn't have to go to the house. Over the years, he and her mother had devised all manner of ways to avoid being at home at the same time.

Celeste, her father's assistant, and probable long-time mistress, was packing up when Elena approached her father's suite.

"Miss Gilbert, good evening." Celeste adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "Your father's wrapping up a call."

"Thanks, Celeste. Will you be at the party tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it." Celeste offered a parting smile before walking out. "See you this evening."

When Elena was a little girl, this office seemed so massive. She felt like Alice in Wonderland, with everything oversize and fantastical. Now when she walked in, knowing the kinds of deals her father did behind these doors, it just felt like the black hole Alice tumbled through.

"Keep me posted." Grayson spoke into the handset, glancing up at her as she crossed the threshold. "Yes. Just let Celeste know."

Elena sat down in the chair across from his desk. Anxiety swelled inside her throat, not unlike the day she sat in this very office and told him she wouldn't be going to Princeton, but was heading to Paris for her first runway show. That bastard Liam Davis was a dark undertow in that pivotal conversation, just like he was in this one. Only her father didn't know it then.

The secret Elena had been carrying around for ten years hovered on the tip of her tongue, lured out of darkness by necessity. She had put this behind her. After two years of therapy and more than a dozen years living strong and making her own choices, she had put it behind her. But now it was rearing its ugly head again, and although she wouldn't expose it to the world, she had to tell her father. If he knew what Liam Davis did all those years ago, she had to believe he wouldn't do business with him.

"Elena, this is a surprise." Grayson shifted his attention to a stack of papers on his desk, giving her a cursory look. "Shouldn't you be on your way home to get ready for tonight's party?"

"I'm dressing here at the office." Elena folded her hands in her lap. "Leaving from here."

"So did you need something?"

Right to the point. No affection or concern. Her father didn't deal in either of those, and she should be used to it by now, but somehow she never was. She should lower her expectations of him, as he had done of her.

"Could I ask you…well, how deep are you in with Liam Davis?"

Elena had spent her whole life studying her father, trying to figure out how she could best please him. She could never seem to get that quite right, but trying had taught her a lot about him. And she recognized, even though his face remained completely relaxed, a certain alertness entered his eyes.

"Why do you ask?" Grayson flipped open a file, running his eyes over it, but not really seeing it. _Not fooling me,_ Elena thought. _I have his full attention._

"He is not a good man, Daddy."

His eyes flipped up to hers, narrowed on her face.

"Neither am I, Elena." A band of steel ran through his soft words. "Neither are half the men we do business with. Neither is Aaron Whitmore, if it comes down to it."

"You are wrong about Aaron." Elena tugged the corner of her mouth between her teeth. "But Liam…"

She inched forward until she was literally on the edge of her seat.

"Daddy, what if I told you that Liam hurt me?"

A frown pinched his brows together.

"Hurt you how? When?"

"On prom night, he—"

"High school, Elena?" His sharp laugh diced her confidence. "Next year this man will be one of the most powerful politicians in the country, and you are talking to me about prom night? Really, Elena. I expect better of you."

"No, Daddy, listen." She licked her dry lips. "On prom night he hurt me. He forced me. He ra—"

"Stop." Grayson slammed his hand on the desk, rattling a bin of paper clips, rattling her nerves. "Don't say it, Elena. Not to me and not to anyone else. Have you repeated this nonsense to anyone else?"

"It is not nonsense, Daddy. If you would just listen to what happened—"

"And you are just now telling me something like this ten years later?" He stood, walking back and forth and rubbing his chin between his fingers. "No, I think that time and memory twist reality. It is understandable. You probably expected more from your…encounter with Liam, and maybe you were upset when he moved on."

"That isn't what happened at all." Elena borrowed some of his steel, weaving it into her words. "I know exactly what happened that night."

"I can't let you endanger a man's career because of something you think happened many years ago."

"Daddy, please listen to me." His dismissal whittled her voice, her heart, down to a nub.

"No, you listen to me, young lady." No one seeing this man's face, hearing his voice, would think she was his daughter. There was nothing soft or protective in how he looked at her, in how he spoke to her. "I am on the cusp of the most important deal of my life, and Liam Davis is the linchpin. No one, not even you, will ruin that for me."

"I don't want to ruin anything, I just…I just thought you should know that—"

"That he is not a good man. I heard you." His face softened, but it was a calculated yielding. A deliberate act to put her at foolish ease. "Elena, let sleeping dogs lie, and don't repeat this nonsense to anyone else."

"Will he be there tonight?"

"No, he is on vacation with his wife and children." His mouth pulled back to show his teeth. "He is a dedicated family man like me."

"You do your deal, Daddy. I won't get in the way since it is obviously more important to you than I am." Elena stood, shoving down the hurt long enough to make her face a rigid reflection of his. "But I will not be in the same room with that man again. Ask me to, and I will become difficult."

Grayson crossed around the desk and intruded into her space so quickly, she was forced to recoil.

"Difficult?" He snapped, disdain distorting the distinguished face and filling the brown eyes so like hers. "You haven't seen difficult, baby girl. I don't need you in the same room with him, especially now that I know the kinds of delusions you are concocting in that pretty little head of yours. Stay away from Liam altogether, or you will regret it."

"Wow." Elena walked to the door, turning to say the last words she had planned to say to him for a long time. "I came here to tell you that vermin raped me, thinking it would make a difference, and you protect him."

His face tightened at the word "rape." A word she had so rarely even said aloud. And never to anyone, but her therapist, applied to her.

"Elena, you have to understand. This deal—"

"Stop." Elena lifted her hand, blocking his excuses, which could not possibly be good enough. "Just stop, Daddy. I will stay out of your way and you keep Liam out of mine. It has worked all these years. Why stop now."


	9. Chapter 9

_She didn't wear the dress I liked,_ Damon thought. That was okay, because what Elena decided to wear had his attention and, Damon suspected, every man in her immediate radius, was like him, adjusting themselves discreetly in their pants. It was some one-piece pantsuit thing with no straps that fitted her body like she was sewn into it, plunging into a V that displayed the tops of her high, firm breasts and left her shoulders bare. A mass of onyx and pearls hung around her slim throat. Her hair was piled high in messy splendour, a few tendrils caressing her neck.

"You are catching flies, Salvatore." Enzo stood with his back to the bar, elbows up on the surface. "Mouth hanging open over that woman again."

"Shut up, Enzo." Damon knocked back the last of his bourbon. "Shouldn't you be back at the manor convincing Maggie to finally give you a shot?"

Enzo a massive crush on their assistant, Rose's sister Maggie who happened to work for their accounts department. For a long time, it seemed destined to be forever unrequited, but lately Maggie had shown signs that maybe she had feeling for him, too.

"Shows how much you know." Enzo grinned, making his face even more boyish than usual. "I'm taking her to dinner as soon as we get back from Cambodia."

"Is Maggie coming over to New York?"

"She is going to visit Rose for a few days and we will be back from Cambodia by that time."

After two years watching Enzo pined over her, Damon couldn't even bring himself to teasingly deflate him. He extended his fist for a pound.

"Good work, Enzo. So, where you taking her?"

Enzo's eyes widen with panic, and all his colour washed away.

"Hey, you have got time." Damon patted him on the back. "We will figure it out. Don't break out your inhaler."

Enzo nodded, as if reassuring himself, the colour slowly returning to his blanched face. He really liked Maggie. Just as Damon was about to ride him about it at least a little, he saw a guy near Elena who looked like he was screwing up the courage to speak to her. _Get in line,_ he thought. _Actually, there isn't a line. Only me._ She just didn't know it yet.

"You okay there, buddy?" Enzo nodded to the end of the bar, where Elena waited for her drink. "Need my inhaler?"

Damon nailed him with a deadly look and then made his way down to her end of the bar before the guy could make his move. Elena glanced up, doing a double take when she realized that he was so close.

"You again." She cut her eyes up at him. "Shocking."

If he wasn't so sure this woman liked him, he would put on a Kevlar vest before every conversation.

"So what are you drinking?" Damon asked.

Elena grinned, taking a sip from her martini glass.

"Perfect Ten."

"Why am I not surprised?" Damon signalled the bartender. "Bourbon, please. So where is your quarterback?"

"On his way." She peered over the rim of her glass as she sips. "Don't worry. You won't have to keep me company for long."

"Oh, I don't mind." Damon stepped close enough for her scent to wrap around him. "But then you know that, don't you?"

Their glances tangled for a few seconds before she lowered her lashes.

"I know what?" she asked.

"That I like you."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you like me?"

Damon laughed a little, enjoying this perplexing woman more than he had anything in a long time.

"I don't know yet, to be honest."

There was no time to name the emotion that flitted across her face because she hid it so quickly.

Before Damon could make any more progress with Elena, a large hand fell on his shoulder. He was almost shocked to see Nathan Whitmore standing there, since he was been so scarce during their negotiations. Damon knew he suffered a heart attack a while back and had been less involved in the company, but he hadn't been in any of their meetings since they arrived in New York.

"Salvatore, good to see you." He dropped a quick kiss on Elena's hair. "I didn't know you would be here, Elena. Haven't seen you in so long."

"Too long, Uncle Nathan." Elena leaned into Nathan's shoulder for a second before glancing at Damon and pulling back.

"How have negotiations been going?" Nathan asked Damon, looking so much like Aaron that Damon had to remind himself he hadn't sat across the negotiation table from this man.

"They are going." Damon kept his reservations out of his voice. "We have got a ways to go and lots of options to explore."

"You are in good hands with Aaron." Nathan flicked a quick glance Elena's way. "And Grayson too, of course."

"Where is Aaron tonight?" Elena asked.

"The girls are sick, and he wanted to relieve Kerris." Nathan offered a rueful smile. "Wish I had done more of that when I was his age. Too busy building empires."

Giuseppe Salvatore spent a lot of time with Damon growing up. He was as close to him as he was to his mother. His father didn't have an empire to pass along to him like Nathan had for Aaron, but Damon wouldn't have achieved anything he'd had his father not invested as much in him as he did. He never missed a game. Made sure he was prepared for every test. Stayed close, but gave him space when he entered his rebellious stage as a teenager. He knew Aaron and Nathan never had that, and right now Nathan looked like he would trade all he had amassed to have what Damon had shared with his father.

"Aaron seems to have turned out all right in the end," he told Nathan.

Nathan gave him a long, considering look before nodding and giving another rueful smile.

"You know, you remind me a lot of myself." Nathan took the club soda Elena secured for him at some point. "Thank you, Elena."

"I remind you of yourself?" Damon leaned against the bar. "How so?"

"I was always looking for ways to mesh business and philanthropy when I was young. My wife had a lot of influence on me." Nathan's face pinched for a moment. "My ex-wife, that is, Kristeene."

Damon had heard Nathan took Kristeene Whitmore's death hard, even though they had been divorced for years. His face betrayed all the things he had been publicly reticent about: that he loved his ex-wife very much. That he still missed her. That he probably always would.

"I'm hearing great things about Whitmore Charities," Damon said into the heavy silence that followed his comment.

His words seemed to flip a switch inside the older man, his face becoming animated as he talked about the work he was overseeing with the relatively new charitable arm of the company he founded.

"I'm enjoying it a hell lot more than I thought I would." Nathan grinned at Elena and Damon. "They can barely get me in the office for anything else lately."

He said it jokingly, but if Damon had to call it, he would say this legend in the corporate raiders hall of fame just wasn't as interested in it anymore. Damon was not foolish enough to think, when Nathan had to be, that he was any less ruthless than when he founded Augustine Enterprises, though. Elena grew up with men like Nathan Whitmore and her father in this cutthroat world of high stakes and few qualms. So different from the way he was raised. His father, a postal worker, and his mother, an elementary school teacher, instilled in him and his brother things like integrity, compassion, and humility. He was almost afraid to find out what Grayson and Miranda Grayson had instilled in Elena, in case it all took.

"I better get going." Nathan squeezed Elena's hand. "Keep up the good work with the Whitmore Foundation, too, Elena. They are lucky to have you."

"Thank you, Uncle Nathan." Elena's face was softer than Damon had ever seen it. "I'm lucky they haven't kicked me out yet."

Nathan chastised her with a look.

"Well, that Playboy stunt came close." He chuckled when Elena at least looked abashed. "Aaron went to bat for you on that score."

"He has done that more than once." Elena took another sip of her drink, flipping her chin toward the bartender to signal for another. "Your son has a hero complex, I think."

"Yeah, well, he didn't get that from me." Nathan waved to someone a few feet away, motioning for him to come over. "I better go. Glad you are here, Salvatore. Enjoy New York."

"So Playboy, huh?" Damon asked as soon as he and Elena were alone again.

Elena met his eyes as bold as a summer sunrise, shrugging her bare shoulders.

"It was tastefully done. My body, my business."

Before Damon could dig into that anymore, a young girl approached them. Maybe mid-twenties. _How am I ever supposed to make any headway with Elena before the quarterback shows up with so many interruptions?_ he thought. She probably wanted to know where Elena got her shoes.

"Mr Salvatore, hi." The dark-haired girl wore a shy smile, flicking a nervous glance at Elena. "Miss Gilbert, sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to come thank Mr Savlatore."

"Thank me?" Damon eyed her more closely. "Have we met?"

"Not exactly. I'm April Young," she said. "I heard you lecture at Columbia a few years ago."

"Oh, yes." He returned her smile. "I remember that talk."

"You spoke about inciting incidents in our life and global good and world citizenship." April's smile grew wider. "It changed my life. I was a senior about to graduate with a degree in business, but I knew there was something missing. I had never experienced much to make me passionate about anything, but you said if nothing has incited you, seek it. Position yourself to be impassioned. After your lecture, I graduated and did two years in the Peace Corps."

"That is amazing." Damon shook his head, still astounded and humbled when people told him stories like this. "Good for you."

"I want to spend my life finding ways to leverage my business training for the greater good." She smiled at Elena. "I interned with the Whitmore Foundation last summer, and I'm helping Miss Gilbert with charitable ventures for Retreat."

Elena deliberately looked away from him to the other partygoers. _What is Retreat?_ Damon wondered. _How is it connected to charity? What is Elena up to?_

"Again, sorry to interrupt." April nodded her head towards a table at the rooftop entrance. "I better get back over there, but just wanted to say thank you. You look lovely tonight, Miss Gilbert."

"Thanks, April," Elena said with a small smile. "See you tomorrow."

April left behind a silence packed with questions and impressions Damon needed to sort through, but he didn't have enough time. He was about to ask Elena about Retreat when she surprised him with a question of her own.

"What is that like?" Her voice was low and clear, free of sarcasm and the snark she usually dished out. He heard only genuine curiosity.

"What's what like?"

"To have people see you that way." A laugh at her own expense slipped past Elena's lips. "Uncle Nathan compared you to Aaron, which for him is the highest compliment he could pay a man, and he talked to me about my Playboy spread. And April, whom I have worked with for weeks, gushed that you literally changed the course of her life with one lecture."

Her unblinking stare rested on his face.

"I'm just wondering how it feels to affect people that way."

Damon could spout some self-deprecating drivel, some false modesty, or pull out some trite phrase that would make him seemed like it was old hat to him now, but he didn't. If he wanted to see what was going on beneath Elena's surface, he had to show her what went on beneath his

"I will never get used to it." He shook his head, sliding his hands into his pockets. "And I always want to check for a hidden camera because I assume Enzo is punking me."

Elena smiled, relaxing against the bar. Damon leaned back next to her, waiting for her to say the next thing. To make the next move. He could tell she liked to take the lead, and he guessed he could let her take it until she showed him she didn't know what to do with it.

"I heard that lecture, you know," she said so softly he almost missed it in the party conversation going on around them. "The inciting incident, I mean."

"You heard that?"

Damon had addressed Congress, done TED talks, and spoken before dignitaries and kings from all over the world, but at her words, he was replaying that lecture in his head, wondering if she thought it was any good.

"I listened to it today." She looked into her drink instead of at him. "Four of them actually."

Did she say four? Today? And then it clicked for Damon—the thing he sensed teeming beneath the surface, the thing she was hiding from the world. Maybe even from herself.

It was hunger; a voracious appetite for more in a woman who had everything and who, he suspected, was starting to realize it would never be enough. Nobody should ever underestimate the power of dissatisfaction. When someone like Elena, who'd had everything culture told people should make everyone happy—money, fame, prestige—realized it didn't, one of two things would happen. She would dive deeper into cynicism, give up on meaningful pursuit, and continue down that path. Or she would start poking around inside herself and at the world around her to see if there would be more to this life than the things people acquired, the things people achieved. Damon believed, even though she might not even realize it herself, Elena had chosen the latter. She was searching for significance. That was what drew him to her, because he recognized that. He remembered that.

"Elena, did you see the way Nathan's Whitmore face lit up when he talked about Whitmore Charities?" He waited for her nod. "And April, the way she came alive talking about the Peace Corps? They are doing what I call following the fire."

"And what is that, exactly?"

"It is figuring out what burns inside of you, and then letting it guide you." Damon's eyes probed her face. "What guides you, Elena? What is your fire?"

A tiny frown puckered her expression as the question challenged her.

"I'm not sure how to answer that."

"Maybe not yet, but you will."

Elena held his glance for a few seconds before looking at the floor.

"So you think Uncle Nathan has found his fire, huh?"

Didn't she think Damon didn't realize she deftly redirected the conversation away from her? _Just this once, I will let her get away with it,_ he thought.

"Honestly, from what I observed tonight and have seen over the last few weeks," he said, "I think not only has he found his fire, but that it is going to guide him right into retirement even earlier than everyone thinks."

Her eyes snapped to his face, and maybe she knew what he was about to say, but he would say it anyway.

"And that will bring this power struggle between Aaron and your father to a head sooner than later."

"There is no struggle." Elena licked her full lips, a quick swipe to make way for the lie she was telling herself, but that didn't fool Damon. "Daddy knows Augustine Enterprises passes to Aaron."

"You don't believe that any more than I do." Damon hesitated before giving a mental "screw it" and going all the way. "And Mystic Corp won't be trapped in the crosshairs of that. It is not just jobs at stake. Wrapped up in our company, there are lives, there are families. They are people I made a commitment to, and I have no intention of letting them down."

Elena and Damon stared at each other in the dimming light of the rooftop lanterns, in the waning light of the moon.

"Damon, you have the kind of mind, the kind of heart, that changes people's lives when they meet you, and I'm just a model. I smile and look pretty." Elena's gaze wandered over the partygoers around them before returning to him. "But can I give you a piece of advice?"

Damon nodded, eyes fixed on the resigned expression she wore.

"If you care about those families, about those people who depend on you, whatever you do," she said, eyes as sharp and bright as the rare diamonds in the African mines, "don't trust my father."

"What do you mean?" Elena has his full attention, because when it came to the people who rely on him for their livelihoods, he couldn't be too careful.

"He uses the things and people you care about against you to get what he wants." Elena's mouth cracked into a hard smile. "Since he cares about no one but himself, not even his own daughter, he doesn't have those pesky liabilities."

"Did he hurt you?" The desire to squeeze the breath out of Grayson Gilbert's body took over for a few seconds, surprising Damon with its intensity.

She looked from his scowling face to the hand clenched around his glass.

"Not in any way you would imagine, no."

"Why are you telling me this? Warning me about your father?" Even though he had ascertained this information for himself already, it meant something to him that she was sharing it.

"Because you are a good man." She crooked that wide, beautiful mouth a little. "And there aren't enough of those out there. Mostly frogs, from my experience."

"If I'm such a good man," Damon said, going in for the kill, "once you have dumped the quarterback, and we both know you will, have dinner with me."

Elena's laughter stroke a discordant note in the cooling night air.

"You just don't give up, do you?" She lowered her lashes and shook her head. "A good man should have a good girl. I'm not a good girl, Mr Salvatore. Take out someone like April. You two can talk about the Peace Corps and the starving children in Africa."

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what exactly?"

"Put up that guard and pretend to disparage something you want because you are not sure how to get it."

Her face told Damon she was shocked by how much he saw. So much so that she had to pretend he was wrong.

"You don't know me and you have no idea what you are talking about."

Elena pushed away from the bar, set her glass down, and turned to walk away. Damon grabbed her elbow, gently and firmly. She tilted her head back, connecting their eyes.

"I see you, Elena." He dipped his head to bring their eyes level so she could read him as easily as he read her. "You are not just a pretty face and a tastefully done Playboy spread. There is a lot more to you than that."

"Elena!" a voice called over a few heads.

They both followed the direction of that voice.

 _Aw, hell,_ Damon thought. _Talk about timing._

He gritted his teeth when he saw Matt heading their way. Elena pulled away, but not before Matt's eyes drew a line between him and his girlfriend, a frown settling on his commercial-ready face. This guy had no idea who Elena was. Damon doubted he cared if she hungered for significance. That she wanted to be more than just a walking, talking beauty brand. Damon could see how he and everyone else would assume that was all there was to her because she hadn't shown them anything else. He saw her with unexpected clarity, though, like a gem under a loupe lens. Guys like Matt Donovan would never challenge her to be any more than the girl on his arm and in his bed. She was more than that. She was worth more than that, and Damon wanted her to know it.

Dumb move on his part, but Damon followed her, and when she was only a few steps away from Matt, he grabbed her gently by both elbows, pulling her into him until her back was flush to his chest. He leaned down so that his words would reach only her ears.

"Elena, I'm leaving for Cambodia tomorrow."

Her long, slim body stiffened against him, but she didn't glance up or back to look at him.

"If you haven't gotten rid of him by the time I get back, you know that rule I have about not going after other guys' girls?"

Elena did look up at Damon then, eyes guarded and uncertain, yet somehow knowing.

"I'm breaking it."


	10. Chapter 10

Damon missed the ocean.

His arms felt like overboiled noodles barely dragging him through the electric blue, chlorinated water in the Brooklyn athletic club up the street from his brother's house. He longed for the tumult, the capriciousness, the wild beauty of water deeper and wider than this tame rectangle marked in feet and inches. He wanted fathoms so deep he was not sure when he would reach the bottom, or if he ever could.

Damon had lost count of how many laps this made. When he was a kid, he had so much pent-up energy, he couldn't focus and ended up in fights. Just as doctors started recommending medication, his father got him into football. And basketball. And swimming. Physical activity had been his drug of choice ever since. It focused him, centred him, in a way nothing else ever did.

He hauled himself onto the edge of the pool, chest heaving and arms trembling. He could tell he haven't been training. He stopped counting laps, but he knew he could usually do more than he did this morning. He and Enzo just got back two days ago, but he was already pining for the open waters of the Atlantic down at Tybee Island, where he had a beachside property he didn't get to use nearly enough.

The pool door opened, and Enzo strode over to him, dressed in gym shorts and a T-shirt. He sat down beside Damon, taking off his running shoes and socks, dangling his legs in the pool.

"I figured I better come make sure you hadn't drowned." He hooked a towel around the back of his neck. "Man, you have been in there forever."

"Have I?" Damon snatched a towel from a nearby stack, wiping water away from his eyes and face.

"I knew you would need to burn off some steam after that meeting with Grayson Gilbert." Hesitation settled on Enzo's face. "Are we pulling out of negotiations?"

Damon considered his partner and best friend, holding his words for a few more moments. This was never meant to be permanent. They were twenty-one years old when we started the Mystic journey. They said they would give it five years to see if it succeeded, and it had surpassed all their expectations. Helped more people and made more money than either of them ever anticipated. But it was never supposed to be forever. They were both eager to find a partnering business that shared their values and could take Mystic Corp to the next level, but they couldn't compromise on commitments they made to the people all over the world who bought into this vision. Who had, in many ways, staked their futures on it.

"I'm kind of relieved Grayson showed his hand yesterday," Damon said.

"Well, he didn't as much show it as couldn't hide it when you started probing."

Damon pressed Grayson on keeping indigenous workers, on making sure that Augustine Enterprises wouldn't use employees from other countries to cut costs since restoring economic power to the people in developing nations was the whole point. Not just amassing more economic power for themselves. Grayson's polite mask fell away, and the ruthless businessman showed the ugly mercenary truth. Damon knew it was about the bottom line for them, but that just meat they might not be the right company to partner with.

"So are we done with Augustine?" Enzo tried to hide the disappointment in his voice, but Damon heard it.

"I'm done with Grayson Gilbert," Damon corrected. "I still think Augustine Enterprises could be the right partner."

"But Grayson—"

"Grayson's last name is Gilbert, not Whitmore." Damon stood and dried off. "Aaron is the future of Augustine Enterprises. Him, I will stay at the table with."

"If he had been there yesterday like originally planned," Enzo said, "things would have gone differently."

"Yeah, I think Grayson thought so, too. That is why he pushed to still meet even though Aaron got held up in Hong Kong."

"So what do we do, Damon? We have other offers."

"I'm not ready to abandon Augustine yet. I think we wait. We made our position perfectly clear. Let's see what their next move will be."

"Sounds good." Enzo stood. "I'm going to shower. You coming?"

"Soon. I want to get some steam first."

Stripped down to just a towel, Damon leaned back against the wall in the steam room. He drew a deep eucalyptus-infused breath, letting the steam soothe the muscles he stretched to the limit. The door opened, and he closed his eyes. He was not in the mood for some near-naked guy who enjoyed a good, steamy chat. Damon heard him settled on the other end of the bench, but just slumped his shoulders against the wall, hoping he would take the hint.

"Funny meeting you here."

Damon's eyes snapped open when he recognized that voice. Not much surprised him anymore, so he was not sure why Aaron Whitmore in his steam room should.

"Whitmore, you are quite resourceful, aren't you?" Damon leaned his head back against the wall, but remained alert. "I know you aren't a member here, so to what do I owe this dubious honour?"

Aaron grinned at him through the scented steam.

"I heard things didn't go well yesterday with Grayson," Aaron cut right through the steam and the small talk.

"If you would say Hiroshima 'didn't go well'—Damon crossed his arms over his chest—"then, yes, that's how I would characterize yesterday's meeting with Gilbert."

"Look, I know he can be a bit of an asshole."

Damon opened one eye, cocked one brow.

"Okay." Aaron chuckled, settling back against the wall. "He is a total dick, but what if I can guarantee you deal only with me?"

Damon leaned forward, elbows to his knees, and gave Aaron his most candid look.

"Only you can't make many guarantees right now, can you? Not with things about to become so unstable at Augustine."

Speculation narrowed Aaron's eyes.

"What have you heard?"

"It is not what I've heard. It is what is obvious to anyone paying attention." Damon poured a portion of eucalyptus into a small pot against the wall, intensifying the scent. "Your father is at the end of the road, and when he retires, the transition of power won't go as smoothly as he had hoped. Am I right?"

A muscle ticked in Aaron's jaw, but his face gave Damon no other indication that he was even close.

"I propose that we take a back-channel approach," Aaron finally said.

So he is going to ignore what I said, Damon thought, only confirming that he was right.

"Back-channel?" Damon leaned into the sweating wall. "What are you thinking?"

"I need it to look like you are walking away from this deal." Aaron lifted one brow and one corner of his mouth. "But don't. Don't talk to anyone else. Wait for me to get things settled at Augustine, and then once I'm in charge, we resume talks."

"Where do you expect opposition to come from at Augustine?"

"Everywhere." Aaron scooted forward, until he was barely on the bench. "But don't worry. I'm ready for whatever Grayson and anyone else throws at me."

"You sure about that?"

"Always." Aaron leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him and linking his hands behind his head, his casual posture not fooling Damon. "So what will it take for you to agree to this? We can't put any of this in writing. It has to stay off the books, but I trust you."

"Why do you trust me?" Aaron could trust him, but Damon was interested to know how he figured that out so quickly.

"Let's just say I never go into a deal without knowing who I'm dealing with."

Damon had heard that anyone working with Aaron should expect to have their past and present excavated because he could dig so deeply.

"So what will it take?"

Damon loved it when opportunities fell into his lap like apples. He and Enzo had already decided they would wait for Augustine's next move, that they would stick with Augustine for now. He was getting something he wanted in exchange for something he was already prepared to give Aaron. It was great. Damon also loved that as prepared as Aaron liked to think he was, and as much as he liked to think he had dug up on him, he was about to take Aaron completely by surprise.

"We will stay in play if you give me Elena's Gilbert number."

Aaron just blinked at Damon for a few seconds, until the request registered. A frown settled between his eyebrows. His mouth tightened.

"I don't think that—"

"That's it. Not much to ask."

"Elena?" Aaron's frown went deeper if possible. "Elena Gilbert?"

"About this tall." Damon brought his hand up as high as his nose. "Legs that go on forever. I think you know her."

"Look, Salvatore, I get it." Aaron grinned at him. "Elena is beautiful, obviously. And lots of guys—"

"I don't care about lots of guys." Damon's voice came out harder than he expected. Obviously harder than Aaron did, too, judging by the sharp look he levelled at him. "You give me that number, or today we start calling all the other companies prepared to meet our terms."

"That doesn't make any conventional business sense."

"Says the man ambushing me in a steam room to do business wearing nothing but a towel. Neither of us got where we are being conventional. We both know what we want, and go after it."

"And you want Elena?"

"Obviously." Damon didn't sprinkle sugar on it. He didn't explain it to Aaron because it was none of his damn business what he wanted with Elena.

"I wouldn't have pegged you—"

"Trying to peg me would be a mistake, Whitmore. Waste of your time and insulting to me."

Aaron stood up, gripping the ends of his towel together at one hip.

"I will get you the number, but let me warn you." Aaron turned at the door. "I know Elena seems tough, but she has been through a lot. Guys have hurt her in the past."

"Like you did?" The question was a dart Damon aimed through the scented air.

Aaron might punch him if he could. Only the business they still had pending, the twenty pounds and couple of inches Damon had on him, probably stopped him.

"Yeah, like I did," Aaron finally responded. "Elena and I grew up together, and dating her was a mistake, but we are still friends. She is not an easy woman to know."

Damon hoped the smile he gave Aaron didn't come off as cocky, because right now he was feeling pretty satisfied with himself.

"Which is why I need your help."

"One more thing, Salvatore." Aaron angled his head down, looking at Damon from beneath a slash of dark brows. "Because of my, shall we say research, I think I know what you want to do next."

"Next?" Damon focused on keeping the line of his shoulders even and relaxed. "Not sure what you mean."

"One of the things I admire about you most is that you, like me, actually want to change the world, and are foolish enough to think you can do it. You understand that even as much good as Mystic Corp is doing, it is sometimes like blowing on a wildfire."

Aaron pressed his back to the door, pushing it ajar and releasing some of the steamy air trapped in the room.

"You need to work from inside, to be in a position to influence those corrupt bastards leading these countries and making it hard for their own people to thrive."

"Let's say your right," Damon said. "What does any of that have to do with me and Elena?"

"I know what you want next, and you can't have scandal if you are going to get it. Elena draws scandal like bees to honey. I'm just saying you may not be able to have both."

"Aaron, your father recently told me that I remind him of himself," Damon said. "I would like to test that theory. How does your father respond when someone says he can't have something he wants badly?"

A lopsided grin skewed Aaron's lips. He turned to leave, tossing his last words over his shoulder.

"I will get you that number."


	11. Chapter 11

Not him again, Elena groaned.

She had been ignoring her cell all morning, but if she saw Matt's name flashed on the screen one more time, she might hurl the phone through her office window. And it was a new phone. A new window, for that matter.

"Matt, hey." Elena leaned back in the office chair she managed to smuggle from Augustine Enterprises in last week's move.

"Elena, I have been calling you all day," Matt said, voice petulant.

"Have you? Sorry, I have been slammed here at the office."

"Did you see what the Post wrote about us? They are reporting that we are done."

"Is that what they said?" She massaged one temple. In just the week since our split, she had almost forgotten what a recalcitrant child Matt could be.

"How did it get out so fast? I haven't told anyone because I have been hoping you will rethink the breakup."

"What can I say? We live in a bubble. Hard for people like us to keep secrets." Elena checked a chip in her manicure. "And I have thought this through, Matt. I told you that last week when we ended things."

"But I thought maybe we could just take some time apart and figure things out."

"I just think we have come to the end of our road." She drew a deep breath, making a conscious effort to gentle her voice. "We can still be friends, but that is all I want."

"Is there someone else?"

Damon Salvatore's face, the solid jaw line, the high cheek bones and the "bad boy" smile, splattered itself all over her mental canvas. Not a day had gone by since that man traipsed off to Cambodia that she hadn't thought about him. It was really irritating.

"There is no one else, Matt. Just me. It just needs to be me for a while." Elena let that sank in before checking to make sure he understood. "Okay, Matt? Friends?"

"Friends for now, Elena," Matt said. "But you know how hot it was between us. I will try not to rub it in when you come knocking wanting more."

Don't flatter yourself, Elena said to herself. Don't hold your breath or your dick.

"Take care, Matt."

Why did I answer? She asked herself when she ended the call. His call had thrown her schedule off, and she needed to get across town to meet with François's team about the unveiling of the Goddess scent. She was gathering a few things to work on in the car when her cell rings again. She didn't recognize the number, but she called a few artisans for Retreat. It could be one of them returning her call.

"Hello?" She didn't give more information than that in case it was a wrong number.

"Elena, hi."

That voice poured over her like a vat of honey, and just those two words ran down her body, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their sweet, sticky wake. She would know that voice anywhere.

"Who is this?"

Damon's deep chuckle rumbled from the other end.

"You don't recognize my voice, Elena? I'm hurt. Truly."

"How did you get my private number?"

"I'm a well-connected man."

"Are you back in New York?" Even though Elena had no intention of seeing him, she was curious if it was even a possibility.

"Got back yesterday. Sorry it took me so long to call." A small pause hung between them. "I read that you dumped the quarterback."

"Did you now?"

"Which brings me to the reason for my call."

"Which is?" Elena braced herself to refuse anything this man asked of her.

"Have dinner with me tonight."

"I'm busy tonight."

"Tomorrow?"

"No."

"Uh…the next night?"

"Sorry, no." Elena heaved a sigh. "We talked about this. Go find yourself a good girl like April."

"But I want myself an Elena." She heard the grin in his voice and wanted to slap herself across the mouth for grinning back.

"We all want things we can't have."

"That is not my mantra."

"You have a mantra? How very pretentious of you."

The low-timbered laugh from the other end tightened her nipples in the silk cups of her bra.

"I can't remember ever being called pretentious before."

"Oh, then I'm your first. I promise to be gentle with you."

"No." His voice dipped and went a shade darker. "Don't be."

Damn, it is hot in here, Elena thought. She fanned herself with the report April sent over this morning.

"I have to go, Damon. I'm already late for a meeting."

She hung up before anything else on her body went wet or tighten. Just two minutes of that his voice had her making battery-operated plans for tonight.

"Was that Matt again?" Caroline placed a mint green and white shopping bag on the corner of Elena's desk. "Here's a few pieces from Kerris Whitmore's Riverstone Collection, like you asked for."

"Oh, thanks. Yeah, she and I are supposed to meet soon. Can you confirm?" Elena peered into the bag at the three boxes stacked neatly. "And, no, that wasn't Matt. Well it was, and then it wasn't. Two calls."

"Matt's still not getting the message?" Caroline dropped into the seat facing Elena's desk. "Even after we went to the trouble of leaking the story to the Post?"

"Yeah, even still. I'm done being subtle and sweet." Elena grabbed her floppy leather clutch and her iPad, standing. "Remind me again why I'm not at least experimenting? Men aren't worth the trouble."

"I'm sure I can find you some girl-on-girl."

"No, thanks." Elena paired a wicked smile with a wicked wink. "I still like sleeping with a man."

"Isn't that the truth." Caroline giggled. "You said it was and then it wasn't Matt. Who was the other call?"

"Oh, the other call." Elena lowered her head and bent over, focusing on slipping her heels back on. "That was Damon Salvatore."

"Ooooh." Caroline rubbed her hands together vigorously enough to make fire. "We like him."

Elena made her face stern.

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do." Caroline's face softened. "I can tell you do, Elena. You should give him a chance. I would."

Elena stood up straight and gave her "you better not ever" eyes.

"You won't."

"Oh, is my girl jealous?"

"Never." Elena grabbed her wrap for the October breeze that snuck into the city over the last few days. "You know I don't do good guys."

"You forget I have seen that good guy, and I bet he could do you good."

Elena rolled her eyes. "Well, he won't get the chance, will he?"

Caroline had this way of just staring at her when she knew there was more, waiting for Elena to give it to her.

"Caroline, everyone would ask what he saw in me. What he is doing with me." Elena grabbed the bottled water from her desk. "I have never been that girl, and I'm sure as hell not starting now. We don't fit. We make no sense."

"You never know."

Elena smiled at Caroline over her shoulder on the way out.

"And I never will."

x x x

Retreat.

The scripted writing on the office doorplate made Damon smiled. He never did find out what Elena was up to. Guess he would today. A mahogany reception desk took up a good portion of the cool-toned lobby. A man, slim, brown-haired, early twenties, was on the phone. He held up an index finger, silently indicating that he would be right with him, and then waved Damon towards a set of sleek leather chairs.

"How can I help you?" The receptionist ran his eyes up Damon's legs and over his chest before finally reaching his face. "I would love to help you."

Well, this is awkward already, Damon thought.

"Um, hi." Damon stood and approached the guy at the desk. "I'm here to see Elena Gilbert"

The receptionist glanced from an iPad on his desk back up to Damon's face.

"I don't see an appointment."

"Yeah, she must have forgotten to put it down." Damon hoped the smile he was giving the receptionist was actually persuasive.

"Yeah, sure. That must be why she left for the day." The receptionist rolled his eyes, but still looked interested. "You could leave a card with me."

Damon didn't want to leave a card. He wanted…after three weeks, he would just like to see Elena. In a short time, he had grown to enjoy the way she layered sarcasm and testiness to hide what she was really feeling. She might as well be using cellophane, that was how apparent it was to him that she wanted to explore what this could be between them.

"No card, but thanks."

Damon headed towards the exit when a woman with a pale complexion, blue-green eyes and medium length blonde hair entered the lobby from the hall presumably leading to the offices.

"Gil, were those illustrations delivered?" A frown puckered her eyebrows together. "Elena needs those for her meeting tomorrow."

Damon hovered near the door in case she dropped information he might be able to use. She flicked a glance his way, looking away and then back again, eyes focusing on him.

"Have you been helped?" she asked.

"He was looking for Elena." Gil did air quotes, scepticism lining his otherwise unlined face. "An appointment that she must have forgotten."

"I keep Elena's schedule," the blonde said. "She didn't have an appointment this afternoon."

"Miscommunication, obviously." Damon headed for the elevators.

"Damon?"

His name called behind him stopped him in his tracks. Damon turned to find the lady smiling now.

"Damon Salvatore, right? I thought that was you." She grinned, gesturing for him to follow her down the hall. "Come on back."

What happened? Am I missing something? Damon thought. Only one way to find out. The blonde led him back down the hall into a spacious office decorated in shades of grey and green. She indicated a chair near a desk.

"So I finally get to meet you."

Damon froze, halfway down to the seat.

"Finally? You obviously know my name." His brows went up as he sat down. "And you are?"

"Caroline Forbes." She sat on the edge of her desk, her sharp eyes taking in his shoes, grey slacks, and dark sweater. "You are even better in person."

"Excuse me?" Damon managed a quick, self-conscious laugh. She didn't hide the admiration in her eyes, but he didn't get an interested vibe from her at all. "How do you know me?"

"Elena watched some of your talks." Caroline rolled her eyes and grinned. "Actually a lot of them."

Damon ran his palms over his knees, keeping his face neutral so she wouldn't know how much that information pleased him.

"She did mention that." Damon looked at her like her fully expected her to answer his next question. "Where is she?"

Caroline gave a husky laugh and wagged a finger at him.

"Oh, no, buddy. I'm not that easy." Her face dropped any sign of amusement. "What are your intentions towards Elena?"

"My intentions?" Damon ran a hand over his hair. "Does she have a dowry I should know about? Are we be betrothed now? What do you mean my intentions? I want to get to know her."

"A lot of guys want to 'get to know' Elena, but I was hoping you were different." She stood, her mouth a straight line, and raised green-blue, disappointed eyes to him. "I will show you out."

"I like her."

The words spilled out before Damon had time to think better of it. He didn't even know this woman in front of him, but it was apparent to him that she cared about Elena, that she knew her. And the fact that she knew more about Elena than he did meant he should take her question seriously.

Caroline slowly settled back onto the edge of the desk, a small smile playing around her lips.

"What do you like about her exactly?"

Damon wasn't prepared for a Elena's pop quiz.

"I like that she is absurdly honest," he said. "Like rudely so."

"You like that?"

"I hate bullshit. I hate having to figure out what people really mean behind what they say, and she is not like that." Damon shook his head and gave e a quick laugh. "Except for the fact that she pretends not to like me."

Caroline lifted one brow.

"Confident, aren't we?"

"Would she want a man who wasn't?" He returned her grin before continuing. "So will you help me? Tell me where she is?"

"No, I'm sorry I can't tell you where she is."

Damon stood up, ready to head out. As much as he wanted to find Elena today, Rose would be calling soon reminding him about the meetings that would take up the rest of his afternoon. The reason he was actually in New York.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Caroline." He started towards the door.

"Wait."

Damon looked back to find Caroline walking towards him, eyes fixed on her phone.

"I can't tell you where she is now." She glanced up from her phone to offer a conspiratorial grin. "But I can tell you where she will be tomorrow."


	12. Chapter 12

No pain. No gain.

Really, Elena put herself through this pain so she didn't gain. Even though she was retiring from runway, she would have opportunities for years to come, if she played her cards right. If she expected to still fit the sample sizes her favourite designers send over, she would keep pressing through the pain of these crack-of-dawn workouts. Look at Christy Turlington, Giselle, Kate Moss. All older than she was. All with endorsement deals and contracts coming out of their perfectly toned asses.

These were the things Elena recited to herself as she walked to Bodee Barre Studio a few blocks from her apartment building. She, along with just five other women, took private barre classes from Jalene, a former ballerina and the tyrant they voluntarily submitted to at least four times each week. She hung her coat up in the small coatroom at the back of Jalene's studio, tugging off her UGGs and pulling her gripping socks out of the bag. Her black capri leggings and hot pink halter top were both from a line she was test running for Retreat. It seemed like everything she ate, did, or wore lately connected to Retreat. She was not complaining. With all the crap going wrong in her life right now, Retreat felt like the only thing going according to plan.

"Morning, Elena." Anna, one of the girls in the class, walked in and started the same ritual Elena just completed, hanging up her coat and slipping on her barre socks. "How are things going?"

"Great." Elena pulled her hair into a high ponytail and managed to grin at her despite the early hour and lack of caffeine. "How did the audition go?"

Anna spent the next few minutes telling Elena about her upcoming Broadway show while they walked back out into the studio. The other three girls had already assumed their places at the barre.

"Morning, ladies." Jalene's bright eyes and smile defied the early morning hour. "Hope you are ready to work hard. We are supposed to have a guest, but I don't see—"

The door behind Elena opened, ushering in some of the brisk October morning air.

"Ah, here he is now." Jalene's aging-but-still-lovely face broke into a girlish grin.

Elena glanced back to see the guest who elicited such an uncharacteristic response from the termagant ballerina.

Unbelievable.

Damon Salvatore's eyes locked with hers were like hot chocolate on this cool autumn morning, steaming up the room around her. She was trying hard not to eat this man up with her eyes, but after three weeks, the way he filled out the sweatpants dripping from his hips and the Princeton sweatshirt pressing against those massive shoulders, had her greedily taking in every detail. She still felt his eyes on her when she made herself turn away.

Elena missed whatever Jalene said about him joining them today. It didn't matter. Whatever flimsy excuse he offered to get into her class didn't interest her. They both knew why he was here. She searched for anger, frustration, irritation—something more appropriate than the tiny shoot of pleasure springing from some secret part of her that had hoarded images of him for the last few weeks. That part that should know better than to think things could work between a woman like her and a man like Damon.

Elena faced the barre, adjusting her socks, tugging on her leggings, tightening her ponytail—anything to occupy herself while Damon walked past her and into the coatroom without a word to stow his things.

"Glad I showed up for class today." Anna glanced over her shoulder at Damon, her eyes running up then down his body as he walked back to the coatroom. "They don't make them like that anymore. Not sure I will be able to focus on any positions this morning but the ones I would like to have him in."

Elena swallowed a cutting reply. She had no right to be peeved over Anna's appreciation for Damon's body. Wasn't she just doing the same thing? And yet she wanted to strangle Anna with her towel even after she turned away to chat with someone else, the thespian hussy.

Something wide and hard and warm at her back made Elena went completely still.

"Morning, Elena." Damon's breath in her ear sprouted goose bumps all over her arms that had nothing to do with the slight chill Jalene maintained in her studio.

Elena turned to face him, ready to snap and hiss for this unconscionable invasion of her privacy, but every word dried up in her mouth at the sight of him. So this was what he had been barely hiding under those perfectly tailored suits. The heavy slope of his shoulders strained the thin white T-shirt clinging to rungs of muscle in his abs. Arms and legs thick and cut up with muscle stretched from his sleeves and shorts. And if his gorgeous body wasn't enough assault on her senses, his scent—something clean and unabashedly masculine—made her wetter and weaker by the second.

"Cat got your tongue, Elena?"

Damon's words didn't even snap her out of her lusty inspection. Forget the cat. Damon could have her tongue anywhere he wanted it. Every reason she shouldn't give this man a chance burnt away under the heat of those laughing eyes.

He was too good for her but she was going to have him. At least once, and maybe only for a night, but she would have this sexy, beautiful creature.

And then she would walk away like she had always done before.

That certainty settled inside her. It slowed the mad race of her heartbeat. It eased the ache at the apex of her thighs. It emboldened her.

"Damon, so good of you to join us." Elena stepped closer, becoming the aggressor, reaching up to run her fingers over his hair, lightly scraping her nails over his scalp. "You must have washed your hair this morning. Smell nice. I like it."

Damon drew a deep breath that brushed his wide chest against hers. Her nipples predictably sprung erect, tightening under the fitted halter top. His eyes dropped to her breasts, slid over her hips, and caressed the length of her legs before meeting her waiting gaze.

"Cat got your tongue, Damon?" Elena asked, her voice husky.

He narrowed his eyes at her and caught her hand, still touching the silkiness of his hair. He sensed the shift in their dynamic but was trying to figure it out. Trying to figure Elena out.

 _Don't worry, Mr Salvatore,_ Elena thought. _I will clear it up for you soon enough._

"You are not angry that I showed up in your class?" Damon released her arm, and it dropped to her side, a small frown furrowing those thick brows.

"Angry?" Elena feigned surprise, touching the exposed skin of her chest where the halter dipped, drawing his eyes back to her breasts. "Why would I be angry? I will warn you, though, Jalene is tough. This class is not for the faint of heart."

"Somehow I think I will be fine in your little ballet class."

The road to humility was paved with cocky grins like the one he gave her as he looked from the slim barre at the mirror to the slim woman assuming her place to lead their class. A body like his didn't just happen, so Elena knew he worked hard at keeping fit. But barre required something different; it would test muscles he probably didn't usually use in ways he had never used them.

This should be fun, she thought.

Elena turned around. Between Jalene's kick-ass barre routine and her ass in his face for the duration of the class, Damon was in for an hour of torture.

"Good luck, Damon." She bent over to touch her toes, giving him an unobstructed rear view that had inspired poetry and prose from more than one melodramatic suitor over the years.

 _Did he just groan behind me?_ Elena smiled to herself. _Already, and I'm just getting started._

And that was not his last groan. Over the next hour, from the first position, through each grand plié, to the grand relevés responsible for all the killer calves in Jalene's class, Damon groaned and grunted through a routine that, even after a year, still left Elena aching and sore. Jalene had no mercy on him, ruthlessly correcting his posture, adjusting his positions, and demanding his attention, all while she did her best to distract him with every stretch and lean of her body. Poor man must be exhausted, physically and mentally, but he brought this on himself, she thought.

 _And boy is he going to get it._

"Excellent class, ladies." Jalene conceded an appreciative grin for Damon. "And gentleman. I'm impressed, Mr Salvatore. Beginners don't usually fare as well in my classes."

"If that was faring well," Damon drawled with a chagrined smile. "I would hate to see crashing and burning."

All the ladies laughed at his remark, and Anna was practically coquettish. She walked over to Damon as everyone dispersed.

"I'm Anna, by the way." She appeared so small and delicate beside him. Elena couldn't stand petite women like her who looked like they needed saving all the time. Anna batted her lashes, laid a hand on Damon's arm, and even giggled. Elena was so glad she hadn't had breakfast yet.

 _Have you no self-respect, woman?_ Elena thought.

And besides, she had plans of her own for Damon Salvatore.

She was just about to break up that little tête-à-tête when Jalene stopped her.

"Elena, I'm sorry I didn't call you back yet." Jalene blocked her path to Damon and Anna.

"Call?" Elena leaned subtly to the left, just in time to see Anna following Damon into the coatroom.

"Yes." Jalene raised her pencilled brows expectantly. "You asked me about a series of instructional barre videos for your new lifestyle website, remember?"

"Oh, yes." She tried to focus on the conversation, but couldn't help wondering what was going on in that coatroom. "Of course."

"I was afraid I wouldn't have time, but I can do it."

"That is awesome, Jalene." Elena gave a quick smile. "My assistant Caroline will contact you to set up details."

"Great job in class today, Elena."

"Thanks." Having Damon behind her added a little something to her usual enthusiasm. "I need to grab my coat. Thanks again, Jalene."

Elena sped walk to the coatroom, jerking the door open like she might catch Damon and Anna in the middle of a compromising position. They were both fully dressed, though. Both layered up for the cool morning and laughing over something she was sure she wouldn't find funny.

"Elena hey." Anna leaned into Damon, her head well below his shoulder. "I was just inviting Damon to opening night for my new show."

"Really?" Elena leaned against the wall by the door. "And what did Damon say?"

"I hadn't gotten around to saying anything yet." Damon walked over to stand in front of her, taking her hand. "Maybe we could go together."

Just past his shoulder, the dismay on Anna's face was almost humorous. Elena was sure when she invited Damon, she wasn't thinking he would bring her along. And he wouldn't be.

"See you Thursday, Anna." Elena addressed her, but her eyes clung to Damon's. _Will I have to climb the man for her to take the hint?_ she thought.

"But, Damon and I—"

"Thursday, Anna." Elena's eyes and words cut into her sentence like a razor blade. "Good-bye, Anna."

Anna was out the door without further protest.

Damon rested one arm against the wall by her head, his scent and the warmth of his body sheltering and stimulating her, making her feel safe and completely vulnerable at the same time. He stared down at her, waiting for her move. Elena had never taken a step in his direction, and the fact that she sought him out obviously pleased him, but he knew her at least well enough to guess there must be a reason.

She reached behind her to lock the door. Damon's eyebrows lifted, but he otherwise remained still. She reached up to rest an arm on his shoulder, sliding her fingers into the dark, soft hair close to his scalp.

"Let's get straight to the point and not play games, Damon."

His hand, wrapping around her waist, cupping the curve of her back, laid warm and heavy through the thin fabric of her workout clothes.

"I don't play games, Elena." Damon leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I'm a man who goes after what he wants and usually gets it."

He pulled back, his eyes not laughing, close to sober.

"Am I getting what I want?" He dropped his other arm from the wall, bringing that hand to her side, and pulled her close enough to feel his hard body through the sweatpants and hoodie he had put on. "Say yes."

Elena would do better than saying yes. She would show him.

She tugged his head towards her until their mouths touched. Those full lips were softer than she imagined. Damon opened her up with his tongue, delving into her mouth slowly, like he was savouring the first taste of her as much as she was savouring her first taste of him. He groaned into their kiss.

"God, Elena. I knew you would taste like this."

His words dropped off and he pulled her bottom lip between his, every suck and pull a direct hit between her legs. Her wandering hands explored the strong neck, the broad shoulders, the bulge of his arms, the tight waist. Even though he could never truly be hers, she was claiming him for these moments at least. She opened her mouth wider, stretching for him, pulling his tongue deeper into her mouth.

A warning fluttered across her heart. This wasn't what she planned. This hot, sweet communion…of a kiss. Part pure, part drug. The kiss was that addictive. It was not the hardness pressed to her stomach. It was not the way her nipples pebbled against his chest. Those things felt so damn good, but that was not what she could become addicted to. It was the feeling of rightness that could grab hold of her and never let go.

Damon skidded his palms down her sides and over her hips to cup and squeeze her butt.

"When can I pick you up?" His question was a heavy pant against her lips.

"Now." Elena curled one leg around him, waiting for him to hoist her up against the wall. "Pick me up now. We have got a little time. The door is locked."

She missed his breath on her lips as soon as he pulled back and peered down at her face. She didn't even try to hide the absolute need that must be burning from her eyes and smeared all over her face. Every part of her burnt for him, wanted him urgently, but only like this.

Damon cupped her neck with one hand, his fingers slipping up to caress the skin there while his thumb played over her lips. A smile softened his mouth and his eyes.

"No, Elena, I mean for our date. What time should I pick you up?"

Elena hadn't been as clear as she thought. She slipped shaking fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and wrapped her hand around his thick cock. _Lord above, he is big,_ she thought. Her mouth watered at the thought of him holding her head still while he was pushing down her throat. She squeezed the impressive length that might daunt a lesser woman, but not her. She slid her hand up and down until he squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth falling open as he leaned into her and rested his forehead against the wall beside her.

"Take me to bed, Damon."

Damon went still against her before pulling back, eyes narrowed on her face. Elena lifted her lashes, giving him a glimpse of how uninhibited she would be once he had her under him.

"No date. Let's just have sex."

He smiled only a little, running his tongue across those full, sculpted lips.

"Um…as flattering as that offer is," he said, carefully extracting her hand from his pants, "I had a little more in mind."

"Are you saying you don't want to?"

"I'm saying I would like to get to know you a little first."

"First? So you do want to?" Elena just needed to know it would happen, because she had never wanted anyone this badly.

"Is there any doubt?" He shook his head, his smile deepening.

"Haven't you ever heard of a one night stand?"

"Yeah, I have." He nodded, his eyes wicked and teasing. "Even had a few."

"And?"

"And I have had enough to know they don't interest me at this stage in my life." He leaned an inch closer, his minty breath misting her lips. "Besides, I think you will want me more than once."

The look he poured over her body, the promise behind his words, penetrated her as surely as if at any moment she would feel him move inside. Elena hade never felt this before. He didn't want one night stands at this stage in his life? Well, she didn't want complications.

"I don't know what you want from me."

"Yes, you do. It is just that no one has ever asked you for it before." His lips straightened and his jaw clenched as his eyes skimmed her face. "You want a quick sex, but I want more."

 _More. Dammit,_ Elena thought. _He is making me do this._

"Look, I will sleep with you, but anything more is getting too personal."

His lashes fell to cover his eyes, but not before she read disappointment there.

"Then this is as far as we go." Damon stepped back, inserting a chill between them. His pupils were dilated and a swallow worked the muscles of his throat, but those were the only clues his body offered that she might be affecting him as much as he was affecting her.

"You are saying you don't want me?"

He grabbed her hand, his thumb caressing her fingers. He looked at her and Elena didn't know what he was looking for, but she dropped her eyes before he could find it.

"I'm saying I want more, Elena."

Elena reached between them and wrapped her fingers back around the lengthened stiffness hiding in his sweatpants.

"This tells me you will settle for what I want, Damon."

Damon blinked once, but his face remained otherwise unchanged.

"My cock doesn't rule me, Elena, and neither will you. I have two heads, and that's not the one in charge."

She tightened her fingers around what was, even by her standards, an impressive stretch of inches.

"You sure about that?"

"I do Ironman triathlons."

"And I enjoy long walks on the beach. Are we just sharing random facts about each other now while I hold your dick, or did you have a point?"

"Not random. I do have a point." Damon pushed her hand away from his pants. "Do you have any idea how much discipline it takes to do an Ironman triathlon?"

"I can only imagine a great deal, but I fail to see how that relates to us screwing this out of our systems."

"A great deal of discipline, yes," he said, barrelling past her words. "And I take it to another level."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"When I'm training, I abstain."

"Abstain?" Elena frowned so deeply she was sure she almost unibrow. "From what?"

"Sex."

"Well, that is just uncalled for. All that build up can't be healthy."

He laughed and shook his head, his hand finding the sensitive skin of her nape.

"Fighters do it all the time."

"For outrageous amounts of money, yes." Her voice thinned to a breathy whisper as his fingers traced the downy hairs on the back of her neck. "Who voluntarily does that?"

"Lots of people do." He dropped his hand back to his side, depriving her of his touch. "My point is that I'm used to going without. I can go without."

"But you have never had this. Never had to go without this."

Elena was done playing games. She grabbed his hand and slipped it into the band of her workout pants, positioning his hand to cup the bare mound between her legs, willing him to penetrate her with at least one of those fingers. He didn't A heavy arc of lashes fell to conceal his eyes. She didn't want him hiding from her. She wanted to see the lust overpowered his resolve. She wanted to see want knocked down those walls, but he didn't give her that. He took his hand back and stepped out of her reach until she was left empty-handed. He put a few feet between them before looking back at her, the same determination in those blue-grey eyes and in the locked jaw.

"Dinner. Let me know when you are ready, Elena."

"Oh, I'm ready now. If you had put those fingers to good use and explored the landscape down there, you would know just how ready I am."

"I think the problem is you have been sleeping with boys who settle for just what is down there."

"Settle?" Elena gave a short laugh so harsh it was like a tiny razor in her throat. "Oh, I'm sure they don't see it as settling. They would tell you it is the grand prize."

"That is the other problem. I think you actually believe that. Who convinced you the best thing you have to offer is in those expensive panties of yours?"

"How dare you?" Elena snapped, eyes widen, brows jerked together.

"How dare you assume I'm anything like anyone you have ever had?" Irritation heated up his eyes. "Judging me by the assholes you have been with before."

"They may be assholes, but they will have something you never will, apparently."

"Well, that is fine, because I want something they never had."

"And what is that?"

"Have dinner with me and I will show you."

"These are the terms." Elena set one hand on her hip. "We have sex or we don't, but there is nothing else on the table. Are we clear?"

"No, we are not clear. I told you I want to get to know you, and that is what I meant."

"Let's just skip the part where you pretend to find me fascinating and get right to the part where we have sex, you get to say you had Elena Gilbert, and we go our separate ways. Isn't that the end game?"

His brows settled into a frown low over his eyes.

"This isn't a game, Elena. I want—"

"No, you don't," Elena cut in, words like a blunt instrument. "You think you want. It is not happening."

"So you would date that quarterback, but you won't even have dinner with me?"

"That about sums it up." Elena sighed and rolled her eyes. "Look, I will admit I have felt this itch ever since we met, and we can scratch it, but that is all. No dates. No promises. No relationship. This is every man's dream."

"Don't presume to know what I dream about, Elena." Damon stepped close again, his body caging her against the wall, his breath on her lips. "Dinner or nothing."

Elena was through with this shit. Damon Salvatore might be one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen, and his dick would probably thrust her into another stratosphere, but she had heard the lectures. She had heard him talk about following the fire and being incited to do something one was passionate about. Beyond the bedroom, this man was more than she could handle. She would admit that only to herself. He was good and brilliant and he saw way too much. She truly believed that he found her fascinating, wondering what was beneath her guard, but when the layers finally fell away, in the end he would wonder what he was even looking for.

"Then it is nothing."

She fumbled with the lock behind her back until it turned. She grabbed her coat and bag, slipped on her UGGs, and left without giving Damon a chance to protest anymore. They were done. She wished he would just go back where he came from so she could forget about even the possibility of him.

The studio was deserted. Jalene was probably in her office. Elena was through the door and on the street, walking back towards her Fifth Avenue penthouse that sat atop the world, a symbol of all she had accomplished. Without her parents. Without a man. Without anyone but herself. She had learned that she was the only person she could depend on. A man like Damon Salvatore could make a woman forget that, and it was the only thing that had kept her moving forward, one foot in front of the other, all these years.

And that was what she was doing now. Pressing through the early morning crowd, now out and on their way to offices and jobs, avoiding touching whenever possible. Maintaining the force field around herself that she needed to survive in a city that could swallow her like she had never existed without anyone knowing she was ever there. One step at a time put as much distance between Damon and her as possible when a hand broke the rules, grabbing her elbow. Damon pulled her around to face him, as wide and strong as a wall with the crowd rushing around him like water.

"Dinner, Elena."

The intensity of his eyes on her face. The gentle way he held her, like he would let her go if she wanted, but he hoped she wouldn't pull away. The determined set of his jaw, like he was fully prepared to fight for this. Only she knew once he had what he thought he wanted, he would be disappointed.

"I said no." Elena made her voice as hard as it had ever been, and it had been hard before. "Maybe this kind of thing works on the country bumpkins you usually take on sweet dates, but not on me. Back off. Is this the same man who spouts all those lofty principles?"

"Elena, stop." His eyes, soft and hot on her face, cool and harden. "I know what you are trying to do, and—"

"You don't know what I'm doing. You don't know anything about me, and if you have any of the self-respect I thought that guy from the videos had, you will stop. You are just making a fool of yourself now, and it is beneath you."

Elena gestured to the people milling around them, several slowing their steps to study her closely.

"Everyone walking past us right now knows exactly who I am. I don't need a scene in the middle of the street with some do-gooder who wants to take me to dinner before he gets his rocks off. Now do I need to get a restraining order? Because I will."

Elena hated how hard his face had grown. Whatever he thought he wanted from her, she was sure she had convinced him now it didn't exist. That she didn't exist outside of billboards and Playboy spreads and runways. She thought he believed that now because with one last livid look, with a press of his lips so tight, he turned on his heel and walked away.

And she should feel good. Watching the broad back and shoulders headed in the opposite direction, hunched into the Princeton hoodie against the morning chill, she should feel good. This was what she wanted; the only way. She should feel satisfaction that Damon finally got it through his thick skull.

Then why did she feel like a petty bitch who just tossed something precious away like trash? Tossed out the possibility that what Damon thought he saw in her, might actually be there.

 _I see you, Elena._

Damon said it to her on the rooftop, and those words tugged something in her up and forward in a way no one's words ever had. What exactly did he think he saw? Elena couldn't stop asking herself. Whatever it was, he might be the only one who had ever seen it, and she just shoved him so hard she didn't have to worry about him ever looking back.

Panic gripped her by the throat, strangling anything she would say to stop him. She could barely see him now. He would be gone soon, and the look on his face when she landed her last verbal blow told her Damon was not coming back.

Elena didn't know if it was a decision she made, or if that part of her that was keeping secrets about how she felt about this man from the wiser, saner parts of her took over, but across the dense, bustling crowd, a stone's throw from Fifth Avenue, she called his name loud enough for anyone to hear—doing exactly what she accused him of doing. Making a fool of herself.

"Damon!"

It felt like everyone on this street looked at her except Damon. He kept moving forward, every step taking him farther away. Elena was gripped by a sick urgency that she was letting something special die before it drew its first breath. If that kiss in the studio was the first time she moved in his direction, then this was the second. She was rushing after him now. Plowing through shoulders, bumping against briefcases without so much as a pardon me.

"Damon, wait!"

Damon still didn't stop. Maybe his resolve shifted that fast from having to have her to being determined to never see her again. Elena didn't know, but she had to find out. She stopped in the street, leaned over, and pressed her hands to her knees to work up a scream that he could choose to ignore but would have no choice but to hear.

"Damon Salvatore!"

Elena bellowed it. Even over the horns blaring and the collective hum of the early morning commute, Damon had heard it. She knew he did because he turned around, not even a block away, and stared back at her. He made no move to meet her halfway. He wouldn't. The angry set of his mouth, the stiffness of his posture, the fists balled into the front pocket of his hoodie—all signals that if anyone was taking steps this time, it would have to be her. Elena ignored the stares of everyone around them on the sidewalk and ate up the block in rushed steps until she was right in front of him. She was so close she felt his displeasure like a heat wave in the cool morning air.

"Damon, I'm sorry."

Every time Damon looked at her, Elena felt like he was searching for something. Probing, plumbing, diving deep with every glance. Not now. His eyes were flat, guarded, not letting her in and not asking anything of her. Maybe waiting to be done with her.

"I…what I said back there about…" She couldn't finish.

"You mean about my having no self-respect?"

Even though his words were so deep and low no one else could hear, Elena felt exposed and wanted him to stop immediately.

"What I meant—"

"Or maybe the part about my making a fool of myself?" Damon tilted his head, lifted both brows over dark, flinty eyes. "No? Oh, you must mean when you threatened to take out a restraining order. Is that what you are sorry for, Elena?"

"Damon, I—"

"I kept telling myself there had to be more to you than what everyone said, but maybe that was my imagination. Maybe you are just a pretty face and a great set of tits. I'm so sorry I was making things complicated for you by thinking there was more. By wanting more than just sex, which is obviously what you are used to. I just thought I saw…forget it."

Damon turned around and started to walk away again.

"What did you see?"

Elena didn't even care anymore that people still milled around them, that they knew who she was. She had to know what Damon saw to make him chased her all over this city when even she knew she was probably not worth his time. He stopped walking, standing still facing away from her for a few moments. She waited, wondering if he would just keep walking, but finally he turned back around and stalked towards her until he was standing close enough for her to see the anger had drained away, but she couldn't tell what was left.

"Hunger." Damon's eyes never left her face, like he was searching for glimpses of it again. "An appetite for significance. To feel like you are contributing something, adding something. I thought I recognized it in you because I remember it in myself. Remember wondering where I fit in all the needs around me."

Elena was not sure how to respond. He was articulated something that had been skulking about inside her for months, maybe longer. She would never put a word to it. Never really given it much thought, but as she looked back at the things that meant something to her—the Whitmore Foundation, Retreat's charitable partnerships—maybe Damon was right, but she was still not sure. Not of herself. Not of him.

She dropped her eyes to study the cracks in the sidewalk instead of looking at him, wondering how to crack the wall he had raised against her.

"But you were wrong?"

Damon was so quiet the moments stretched out and open, gaping enough for the sounds of the city to intrude. Everything around her was frenetic, but she was still while she waited for him to let her know if he was wrong about her. He reached out to cup her face, lifting her chin, his thumb tracing her cheekbone, his eyes searching hers.

"Was I, Elena?" He stepped closer until the width, the height, the breadth of him, blocked out the scene around them. And it was just them. "Was I wrong?"

Elena was not sure how to respond without risking more of herself than she could afford to lose.

"One dinner." She held his eyes with hers as long as she could, dropping them before his eyes showed triumph or satisfaction.

"When?" His question didn't break stride, as if he hadn't gone through a gamut of emotions to end up right back at the request that started it all.

"Um…I don't know." Elena shrugged, catching the eye of a woman staring at her. She smiled politely like she didn't realize the woman recognized her. "When do you want?"

"How about tonight?" His eyes were still serious, the smile she had gotten used to still nowhere in sight. She didn't realize how much she had grown to like that smile until it was nowhere to be found. She wanted it back, so she said the thing she hoped would restore it.

"Sure. Tonight works."

Damon didn't smile, but leaned in and down to kiss her forehead and then to lightly brush his lips over hers. The heat that had been set to simmer between them flared up in her again, responding to his faintest touch like a nerve sliced open. Elena had had sex in public bathrooms and once, in Milan, almost fell from a balcony screwing, but she had rarely felt this exposed. Like she was standing naked on Fifth Avenue, giving everyone a show. Or worse, showing him more than he should see.

"Seven o'clock then." He turned around and walked away.

There was no smile. No laughter but Elena could have sworn in those blue-grey eyes, there was pleasure. It was a little scary how much pleasing him, knowing he was not angry with her anymore, pleased her.


	13. Chapter 13

Damon spent his morning at the UN negotiating diamond mine rights with leaders from the Democratic Republic of Congo, and tonight he was trying his damnedest to dechoke artichoke hearts. Give him the UN any day. He was good at that. _This? This tiny paring knife and my fingers?_ He thought. _Give me delicate negotiations over delicate fruit any day._

 _Are artichokes fruits or vegetables?_

He had no idea.

He was still pondering this and life's other mysteries when Enzo, Maggie and Rose came down the staircase. Both Enzo and Maggie were dressed for their first date. Maggie was wearing her contacts. Enzo was wearing aftershave. Rose was dressed up as well to go for a movie.

"You ready?" Enzo looked at Maggie.

He looked calm to the naked eye, but Damon had known him for almost fifteen years. He knew a river was probably running under his armpits. Hope he had worn a T-shirt,

"Sure." Maggie frowned. "Actually, let me go grab a wrap."

She turned and dashed back up the stairs. When Enzo and Rose came into the kitchen and Enzo nearly stumbled over the trash can, Damon had to intervene.

"Calm down, Enzo." Damon set the artichokes aside, afraid he would pare his index finger if he had to focus on the food and Enzo at the same time. "You have known Maggie long enough. You just have to relax and be yourself."

"I'm trying but—"

"Do you want to face Zimbabwe's minister of finance with a sprained ankle or worse tomorrow?"

"Of course not. I'm trying—"

"You had gone out on dates before. Just relax, okay."

Enzo looked at him for a few more seconds before slumping his shoulders and turning back to march up the staircase.

"Tell Maggie I will be right back. I need to use the bathroom."

Damon had never seen Enzo this way over anything. Not even his spreadsheets and algorithms.

"Enzo is pretty nervous, huh?" Rose grinned and propped a hip against the counter. "Maggie is the same too."

"You just better hope he doesn't put on more aftershave while he is up there."

"You are evil." Rose tossed a blueberry from the bowl on the counter at Damon. He blocked it so it plopped uselessly to the floor.

One could easily be fooled into thinking Rose unremarkable. Shoulder-length hair, not quite dark enough to be brunette, but nowhere near blond. She might not be very attractive but she was smart and organised. She was on fire when she was on a mission, solving a problem, figuring out how to get fresh water into a droughty region or food to a starving village. The challenge and reward illuminated her face. She all but glowed, and that was what Damon liked her for. He didn't have a sister and Rose felt like a sister to him all these years.

Rose studied him performing open-heart surgery on the artichoke hearts with his tiny knife.

"Give me that." She took the knife and deftly peeled away the delicate leaves, tossing them into the bowl of olive oil. "You roasting these?"

"Yeah." Damon grinded salt and pepper into the mixture. "Oven is already preheated."

Rose finished the task, mixing it all together and tossing it onto the pan. He placed the pan in the oven, turning to find Rose studying him a little too closely.

"Special occasion?" Rose grabbed another blueberry and popped it into her mouth. "You haven't cooked once since we have been in New York."

"My mother started a catering business when she retired." Damon shrugged, hoping she would drop it.

"What's that got to do with the price of tea in China, Damon?" Rose hopped onto one of the leather bar stools at the counter, sharp eyes darting from his dark blue shawl collar sweater to the black pants and boots he just shined. "Is someone coming over? Do you have a date?"

Damon knew he should have ordered in. That wouldn't have raised Rose's antennae. She was a mini pit bull.

"A friend is coming over for dinner." He seasoned the steaks he bought from the butcher up the street, not looking up under Rose's scrutiny.

"This friend wouldn't happen to be Elena Gilbert, would it?"

His hand stopped mid-shake, poised over the raw meat, and he finally looked back at Rose.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, Enzo said—"

"Where is Maggie? We should really get going." Enzo cut in from the kitchen archway.

"Oh, no. Don't rush off." Damon folded his arms over his chest and cocked his head, enjoying Enzo's discomfort. "Rose was just telling me that you said, what exactly, Rose?"

Rose's wide eyes flicked between her two bosses.

"Well, just that…" Rose bit her bottom lip. "Just that you…"

"That I…" Damon raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to finish the sentence. "What?"

"That you kind of have a thing for Elena Gilbert," Rose said defiantly. "That you like her."

"Is that a fact, Enzo?" Damon glanced at his friend, enjoying seeing Enzo squirmed even as he was irritated by his flapping gums.

"I just said that you, well, that I had never seen you like this about a girl before."

"This?" Damon asked. "Like what?"

"Chasing her all over the city and—"

"I did not chase."

Enzo tilted his head, giving Damon a knowing look.

"Okay, maybe there was a little chasing." Damon chuckled just as much at himself as at the face Enzo made.

"I just never pegged you as one of those guys, Damon." Rose pressed her lips together, something dangerously close to disapproval on her face. "I mean, a supermodel?"

It raised Damon's defences immediately, as much on his behalf as on Elena's.

"You don't even know her, Rose."

"Neither do you, Damon," Rose shot back.

"You are right." Damon turned to open the oven, checking the artichoke hearts. "Thus dinner."

"I guess she does have a certain appeal." Rose looked like she couldn't for the life of her understand what it might be.

Damon and Enzo exchanged a quick look. A "certain appeal" didn't begin to describe what Elena had, and a red-blooded male in a coma would recognize it. Enzo wisely just cleared his throat and placed a hand at Rose's back.

"Do you mind checking on your sister?" Enzo asked. "Our reservation is for seven thirty, and I think I heard the car outside."

"You are not grabbing a cab?" Rose asked.

"No, I ordered a car for us." Enzo grinned at her. "We will drop you at the cinema before heading to the restaurant which is nearby."

"That sounds like a great idea," Rose said before heading towards the stair.

"Don't wait up," Enzo yelled back to Damon as he strode towards the door.

"Hadn't planned on it."

Damon couldn't help but smile while he continued the preparations once everyone was gone. He knew it was only Enzo and Maggie first date, but he hoped it would turn into more. First, things could get really awkward with Maggie being their employee if things didn't go well. Second, Enzo deserved some happiness. He had sacrificed a lot over the years. Both he and Enzo had, and he would love to see his friend enjoyed himself a little.

 _Hell, I'm ready to enjoy myself, too,_ Damon thought.

He pulled a basket of blackberries from the fridge, only to realize he was missing something very important. He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, pressing the number he was supposed to call two days ago. He braced for an earful.

"Damon!" his mother said from the other end. "I'm so glad you called. I have been worried."

"I know. Sorry. Things have been hectic here in New York."

"So you are back?" Her tone chided a little. "I thought you would call when you got back from Cambodia."

"Mum, don't start." Damon pressed the phone between his shoulder and his ear, walking the steaks out to the grill on the patio.

"How are things going with Augustine? You think they are the right fit?"

Damon's mother, Lillian Salvatore was not one who would expect to be on top of foreign policy and business, but she could probably hold her own in half of his meetings. She was the main reason he was in those meetings at all. She had been tracking with every step he and Enzo had taken with this Mystic Corp transition.

"Aaron Whitmore is all right." Damon placed the steaks over the flaming grill. "We are not ready to make a decision either way."

"What about the indigenous workers' clause? Are they fine with that? You can't compromise on that, son."

"Mum, I know." He chuckled, heading back inside to the kitchen. "We won't. Look, I didn't call to talk about Mystic Corp. I need a recipe."

A brief silence followed his statement.

"A recipe?" A smile crept into Lillian's voice. "Well, well, well. So you are finally putting some of my training to good use. I have been worried about you and Enzo eating out so much with no woman to take care of you."

"Rose and Maggie are here with us, Mum, but they don't cook much either."

"Girls these days." She sighed. "So what recipe can I help you with and why?"

Damon paused in front of the oven, the last part of her question making him cautious. Using the oven mitt, he pulled the artichoke hearts out.

"Remember that black and blue cobbler you make sometimes? You made it last Fourth of July down at the beach house?"

"Oh, yes. That was a hit. Easy, too. Why do you need it?"

"I wanted to bake it, Mum, of course."

"Don't 'of course' me, Damon." She laughed heartily on the other end. "You haven't cooked anything in ages, and you call me out of the blue asking about cobbler? On a Wednesday night? Fess up. You are cooking for someone."

"Is that a crime?" He grinned and tossed the artichoke hearts with capers, yellow peppers, red onion, and parsley. "I thought you would be happy about me making a home-cooked meal."

"But the question is why, son?" Curiosity soaked right through the short silence on the other end of the line. "Is it a girl?"

A girl? Elena? Damon was sure she was a girl once, but it was hard to think of her in those terms.

"Yeah, it is a girl, Mum, but don't make it a big deal, okay?"

"Wait till I tell your brother."

So much for it not being a big deal. He would have to Skype with Stefan before the week was over to discuss this.

"Could you just not?" Damon checked the refrigerator for the vinaigrette he picked up this afternoon.

"Damon, you haven't really dated anyone since Andie, so I—"

"We are not dating, Mum. It is dinner. Our first, by the way."

"But you like her."

The statement stopped Damon in his tracks. He had been in constant motion since he argued with Elena this morning in the middle of a busy city block. Meetings all day, and then zipping into nearby shops to get things for tonight's dinner. He hadn't stopped, but that question from his mother stopped him. She really wanted to know, and he had never been less than honest with her.

"Yes, ma'am, I like her a lot."

Maybe his response was too quiet. Too serious. Something stole Lillian's words for a few seconds at least.

"Well, tell me about her, Damon."

Damon got going again, heading out to the patio to check the steaks.

"Nothing to tell, Mum."

"Is she pretty?"

He smiled to himself. "Yeah, she is attractive."

 _Understatement,_ he thought. _She is a goddess._

"And what else? I know you want more than a pretty face, Damon."

"She is smart." He pulled the steaks off, plating them and heading back inside. "She was accepted to Princeton, Sarah Lawrence, and UCLA."

Damon knew his mother was all about education. It broke her heart when he dropped out of Princeton.

"Impressive. Pretty and smart. Those are a dime a dozen, though. There must be something that sets her apart considering you haven't shown much interest in anyone since Andie."

Lillian loved Andie, and he broke her heart again when he called off their engagement last year.

"She is…I don't know. Confident. Honest. Ambitious. Funny."

 _Rude. Sarcastic. Vain,_ Damon thought. _Yeah, definitely vain._

"She sounds sweet."

He didn't correct his mother, but he was not sure "sweet" was accurate.

"What is her name?"

Damon didn't know what his mother had heard about Elena Gilbert, the supermodel, and he didn't want it to taint what she still had to learn about Elena, the woman he was still getting to know himself.

"Uh…Elena." He hefted generous portions of the grilled artichoke salad onto the plates beside the steaks.

"Elena. That is lovely. Maybe you could bring her to Thanksgiving at the beach this year."

Oh, that would happen, Damon thought. Elena down on Tybee Island with his family, not sure if Stefan's wife should waterboard her or ask for fashion tips. Her brother begging her to sign his copy of Playboy. Lillian asking where she stood on global warming. And his father? If he wasn't making sure they remembered the actual meaning of the holiday instead of the commemoration of a Pilgrim fantasy, he would probably be the only normal one of the bunch.

"We will see." He set the plates on the dining room table. "It is our first date."

It felt odd to say he was having a date with Elena after fighting so hard to make it happen.

"What is her last name?" Lillian was just getting started. "What does she do for a living? I want to know all about her, Damon."

The doorbell ringing came just in time.

"She is here, Mum." Damon gave the table one quick glance. He would light the candles later. "I got to go."

"I will email the recipe. Check your phone in a little bit and call me tomorrow."

"Busy tomorrow. Call in a few days. Tell Dad I said hi. Got to go. Love you."

Damon disconnected before Lillian found another way to hold him longer. He opened the door to find Elena on the stoop, looking up at the house number, a small frown etched between her dark brows. She looked back to him, confusion evident on her face.

"This is Brooklyn."

"You know, I'm from out of town," Damon said, allowing himself a grin, "but I believe you are right."

She held his stare, making no move to come inside. It gave Damon a chance to study her right back. She had scooped her hair into an artfully messy knot behind one ear. Her face was lightly made up, not too heavy, which he liked. The flawless texture of her skin wasn't suffocated by a bunch of stuff. The purity of her features was truly remarkable, but he knew Rose was wrong to think he was one of those guys who was only interested in Elena's beautiful casing. This outward shrouding, as beautiful as it was, was easy for her to share. She shared it for a living. It was all the stuff she wanted to hide, wanted to keep to herself, that intrigued him.

"I thought you said we were going out." Elena stepped into the house, walking past him to inspect the foyer and large front room.

Damon stepped onto the stoop and waved the car on. He would call the car back later for the ride home.

"I didn't say we were going out." He closed the door and leaned against it. "I said we would have dinner. See the difference?"

"I do now." Elena glanced around the Brooklyn Heights brownstone foyer, looking beyond it to the warm comfort of the living room with its dark leather tones and Persian rugs. "Nice place you got here."

"My brother's actually. He and his wife are in London for his job." He shrugged. "Worked out perfectly. He is there for two years, and I stay here when I'm in New York."

"This big place all to yourself?"

"Actually, Enzo and Rose, our assistant, stay here, too. Rose's sister Maggie who works at our accounts department is here for a few days to visit her sister."

"Cosy." She gave the room another glance before looking back to him, waiting for his next move.

"Well, come in."

Elena walked ahead of Damon, smelling incredible and looking even better. A dress, the colour of chocolate mousse, hugged the dips and curves of her long body. It was short, mid-thigh, leaving the length of her legs bare. It plunges so low in the back that she was naked from her shoulders to the curve of her waist, an expanse of smooth, silky skin begging to be touched. It was a dress made of silk and drama and sex, woven together to draw and hold a man's attention.

Damon was only a man.

And this particular dress…he remembered it from her office the night of Augustine's rooftop party.

So I dressed up for nothing?" She glanced at him over her shoulder.

Damon took her wrist, pulling her around to face him again. Their eyes caught and held, and he realized the molecular structure of their relationship had changed after their argument this morning. The air still sizzled between them, but there was something softer, more vulnerable, uncertain, behind Elena's eyes. And she couldn't hide it from him anymore. He would like to think she didn't want to, but he knew better.

"Not for nothing. You dressed up for me." His eyes glided down her legs and back up to meet her eyes. "Isn't this the dress I liked?"

She dropped her lashes, pressing her lips together against a smile.

"It was already at the office, so…"

"Hmm. Convenience. I get it." He gently pulled her by the wrist towards the dining room. "Well, you look beautiful."

"Thank you." She stopped when she saw the table, set with their dinner, fresh flowers, and candles. "This is…wow."

Her eyes climbed the few inches separating them before looking back to the table. Walking farther into the dining room, Damon pulled her seat out and then took the one across from her.

"I would have come to get you, but the day got away from me and I needed to cook dinner, so I sent a car."

"No problem. My day was chaos, too."

"Your timing was perfect." He gestured for her to eat. "The steaks are fresh off the grill."

Elena stared at the food, and something occurred to Damon. Dammit, Elena was a model. She might not even eat meat. She might barely eat anything to stay in that kind of shape, as far as he knew.

"Do you not eat meat?" He was halfway out of his seat. "I bet there is something in the freezer I could—"

"I eat meat." She picked up her fork and knife, slicing into the tender steak with relish. "I eat it all, and I'm starving. I was just surprised. You made this?"

Damon inched back into his seat with a grin, digging into his own food.

"It was nothing. Just steak and a salad."

Her moan of pleasure sent his blood pressure through the roof and had him wondering if she would moan for him like that when the time came.

"Artichokes." Elena closed her eyes, relishing the forkful of her salad. "My favourite."

 _She is not the only one who remembers details,_ Damon thought. _Point one for Salvatore._

"What made you decide to cook dinner for me at home for our first…date?"

 _Because I wanted you all to myself,_ he said silently.

"I thought we gave New York enough of a show this morning."

Damon expected her to grin, to laugh about it, but she put her fork down, wiped her mouth at the corners, and looked at him directly.

"I want to apologize again for the things I said." She studied her hands in her lap. "I just…I'm not the kind of woman you would usually date, and I'm not sure what you want from me. Guess I overreacted."

"How would you know what kind of woman I usually date?" Damon set his own knife and fork down.

"Maybe I don't." A small smile teased her full lips. "I just assumed."

"Well, tonight is about us getting to know each other so we don't have to assume anymore." He gave her a straight look, no smile, but not hard. "You won't ever have to wonder what I want, Elena. I don't play games. I told you I want to get to know you, and that is what it is."

Her eyes probed his for a few more seconds, trying to discern the validity of his statement. She finally picked up her fork and resumed eating, gobbling up the artichoke salad without another word.

"I'm sorry." Elena laughed, covering her mouth with one hand. "I'm so greedy, but I skipped lunch today by mistake, and I love artichokes."

She narrowed her eyes.

"But you know that, don't you?"

Damon grinned, going at his steak without acknowledging her comment.

"You know a lot of things," Elena continued, taking a sip of the red he pulled from his brother's cellar. "How did you get my private number, for instance?"

"Oh, that." Damon leaned back, sipping his wine. "I can be very resourceful."

"Now that I don't doubt."

Her husky laugh did things to him. Caressed his ears. Drifted up her throat and over his skin like the pads of her fingers might—lightly. Most of all it just made him want to laugh, too.

"And my barre class?" She frowned even while a smile played around her mouth. "How are you feeling, by the way? Jalene's class is no joke."

"I'm sore in some unusual places," Damon admitted, capturing her eyes over the rim of her wine glass. "But it was worth it."

Elena blinked a few times before setting her wineglass down.

"We will see if you still think that by the end of the evening." She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin on folded hands. "Now that you have me, what exactly do you want to know?"

Damon was like a kid in a candy store, not sure where to start, so he figured he would start at the beginning. Or close to it.

"What did you want to be when you grew up?"

He had always found that this question sometimes could tell him a lot. Not what people said, but how far from it they landed in adulthood. It helped him get to their dreams and the things that drove them.

"You want the honest answer?" Her brows were all the way up, eyes serious.

"I want nothing but honest answers."

"When I grew up I wanted to be Aaron Whitmore's wife." Her lips lifted at one corner, bitter on one side, sweet on the other. "That's what I thought I was supposed to be almost from the beginning."

"I knew you two dated briefly," Damon said with a frown, "but I didn't know it was that serious."

And he didn't like it. It was unreasonable how much he resent that she had deep feelings for Aaron. She told him to his face she was only having sex with Matt, and it didn't feel like this. Maybe because he knew Aaron could handle her, and Matt never could.

"My mother raised me to believe that Aaron would be king and I would be his queen, and we would rule Augustine Enterprises and as much of the world as we could acquire." Elena shook her head. "I accepted that as my path, and decided I would love Aaron till the day I died."

Her bitter laugh disrupted the quiet of the house.

"Except he fell in love with someone else." Elena shrugged her slim shoulders. "But even before Kerris, it wasn't me. Not really. He had always been in other relationships, and so had I. I thought we would sow our wild oats and then settle down together. Only he has settled down, and I'm still sowing."

"Should I worry that you are still in love with a married man?"

Elena's eyes widened and snapped to Damon's.

"A married man? What? Who said…what?"

"Aaron, Elena." Who did she think he meant? "Do you still have feelings for Aaron?"

"Oh! No, of course not." What looked like relief settled over her face. "I mean, for a long time I resented Kerris because I thought she took something that should have been mine, but I realize it never was. It took me a while, but I got over it."

"But you and Aaron did date for a while, right?"

"Briefly, but it was right after Kerris married Wes, Aaron's best friend. I sensed Aaron had feelings for her and swooped in. Kind of a rebound thing. It didn't last. Between Aaron and me, nor between Kerris and Wes. He is married to Aaron's cousin Jo now."

"Wait. Kerris used to be married to Aaron's best friend? And Wes…what?"

 _What kind of twisted mess have I stepped into?_ Damon thought.

"It is complicated." Elena laughed and shook her head. "I guess everyone ended up where they were supposed to be in the end. The four of them paired off, and me…"

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Well, me right back where I was before." She raised guarded eyes. "Me, playing the field. On the loose. Emphasis on loose. Isn't that what they say about me?"

"Why would I listen to second-hand information when I have you here and can get it from the horse's mouth?"

"Oh, I'm a horse now, am I?"

They shared a smile, both returning to their plates and their own thoughts for a few minutes.

"What about your parents?" Damon ventured after a few more bites. "Were you close growing up?"

"Not really." Elena dragged her fork through the remains of her salad. "You have met them. We weren't exactly the model family. My father…well, let's just say the only deal he needed me to close, I never could, and that was Aaron."

She shrugged, glancing around the room before returning her eyes to him.

"I didn't help matters by deciding not to go to college, modelling, living the way I have." Elena's lashes dropped, casting shadows on her cheeks in the candlelight. "I'm over disappointing him."

No, she was not. It was obvious that she was a daddy's girl to a daddy who didn't care enough. If Damon didn't have reason to dislike Grayson Gilbert before, he had it now.

"You are so successful, Elena." He reached across and held her hand. "He should be proud."

"Well, he is not." A fake laugh slipped between her lips. "Not sure my mother is either, frankly. I think she was more disappointed about Aaron than my father and I were."

"You two weren't ever close either?"

"I always thought I was too much like my father for my mother to like me." Elena gestured to her face and hair. "Physically, yes, but maybe deep down, I'm just like him, and she sees it. And being as close to him as she is, knowing him the way she does and how he has hurt her, I can't imagine she would want to risk it with someone so like him. At least that is why I assumed we were never close."

"You are not like him." Damon squeezed her fingers. "I don't believe we are held captive to our parentage. We make choices about who we want to be. Everything isn't in our control, but the most important things are. Kindness, compassion, character. If I thought you were anything like your father, you wouldn't be sitting here now, no matter how gorgeous you are."

Elena looked at him, humour alive in her vibrant brown doe eyes.

"Good to know you are not completely immune to my looks."

His eyes travelled over the flawless face, the dark brown hair, the fine bones in her shoulders, the high, full breasts. He was not immune. Matter of fact, if there was a vaccine for the way he felt when he looked at Elena, he didn't want it.

"I wouldn't say immune, no."

She dropped her lashes and dipped her head, freeing her eyes from the connection burning the air between them across the candlelit table.

"So enough about me," she said. "Let's talk about you."

Damon set his elbows on the table, holding his chin in one hand.

"I'm an open book. What do you want to know?"

"Family?" She widened her eyes and smiled. "Please tell me yours is better than mine."

Damon felt his face relaxed and an almost involuntary smile took over.

"My family is amazing."

"Figures."

They laughed together for a moment before Damon continued.

"I have a younger brother."

"I always wanted a brother or a sister. Having sibling sounds kind of great."

"It had its moments." Memories of fights and squabbles and good times as kids with his brother made Damon smile. "We didn't have much. Mama was a teacher, and my father was a postman, so every dollar was stretched pretty thin. Lots of hand-me-downs."

He grinned to make sure she knew it wasn't so bad.

"Is your brother like you? Successful globetrotter?" she teased.

"Ha! Yeah, right." Damon shook his head. "My brother, that idiot, is a sports agent."

He pulled out his phone because he was that guy who had pictures of his family everywhere all the time.

"Want to see my sister-in-law and their new born baby?"

Elena nodded, smiling at him. Damon crossed over to take the chair beside her, flipping through pictures of his family at Christmas, at his beach house on family vacations, at the hospital when his nephew was born six months ago.

"The baby is beautiful." Elena swiped back to a picture of his parents, studying them before looking back to him with a soft smile. "You look like your mother."

Damon grinned

"Yep, me and my mum are the only with dark hair. Stefan took strongly after my father."

"You did, too." She reached over to run a finger across his cheekbone and then his chin. "Your eyes and height are from your father."

She traced his bottom lip with her thumb.

"Those solid jaw line and high cheek bones are all your mother, though."

How was Damon supposed to ignore the fire in her touch? Every smile, every look, blows on the embers from this morning. He wanted to take this slow, to get to know her, to want her for the right reasons, but he was not neutered.

He captured her hand, bringing her soft palm to his mouth, running his tongue across her lifeline, sliding his lips down to her wrist, suckling the pulse pounding through the scented skin there. Elena watched him possessing those extremities with his lips and tongue, her eyes going dark and hot with the same feeling he had been fighting since she stepped through that door looking like dessert.

Damon leaned forward until there was nothing but a breath between them. Their eyes were still connected. With his eyes on hers, he closed the gap, tugging the fullness of her bottom lip between his, nibbling at the softness until she opened for him with a whimper. His hands cupped her face, holding her perfectly still so he could taste the sweetness that had left him hungry all day. He licked into her mouth, running his tongue over the roof, teasing her into kissing him back. Her tongue brushing up against his, seeking his behind his lips, wanting his, was driving him past restraint. Damon pulled her deeper into him, groaning when her breasts pressed against his chest. Her lashes dropped, breaking the contact between their eyes, but deepening the heat between their mouths, leaning into him harder and sweeter.

Hunger drove his hand down over her shoulder and across the naked, silky expanse of her back. Her skin was like silk and velvet, softer and smoother than anything he had touched before. Elena slid her fingers into his hair, caressed his neck, gripped his biceps, all the while sucking his tongue down the tightness of her throat, imitating something his cock was throbbing for, but Damon couldn't even let himself consider if he was going to make it through this night without screwing Elena on his brother's dining room table.

He pulled back, but she recaptured his mouth, the sweet suction stronger, her hands gripping tighter. He pulled back again. If he didn't, this was over and they would be upstairs in his bed before dessert.

"Elena," Damon whispered against her lips. "Wait."

Elena dropped her head until her forehead rested against his, her breaths as heavy as his. She lowered her long lashes, shadowing the delicate skin beneath her eyes.

"You must think I—"

"Want me?" Damon laughed against her lips, converting it into a kiss. Forcing himself to pull back. "I like how much you want me, but it is not nearly as much as I want you."

"I don't know about that. I bet I could give you a run for your money." She smiled, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "Was that dessert?"

It helped to think about something other than how hard he was in his pants.

"Um, dessert." Damon sat back, clearing his throat, running a quick hand over his hair, gathering his thoughts. "Yeah, like I said. The day got away from me, so I didn't get to make it, but I thought we could bake it together."

"Me?" Elena raised her brows, a smile stretching between her cheeks. "You want me to cook?"

"I have the recipe."

"Oh, well then we are home free." She added a laugh to her sarcasm, shaking her head. "I'm not much of a cook, Damon."

She gestured at the dress he would be dreaming about stripping off her tonight when he was in his cold bed alone.

"And not really dressed to cook."

"You can throw on something of mine." Damon grinned, pulling her to her feet. "It will be fun."

"I think we have different definitions of fun."

He risked pulling her close, setting his hands at her slim hips, breathing in her clean scent.

"I think we can meet somewhere in the middle."

Elena rested her elbows against his chest, leaning into him, brown eyes widened and teasing.

"I really like meeting in the middle," she said, her tone light but her voice husky.

"So do I, Elena." He dropped a quick kiss on her soft lips. "But first, dessert."


	14. Chapter 14

Elena couldn't understand.

She held Damon's dick in his hands twice today before the sun was up, but baking a cobbler with him made her nervous? How ridiculous, she thought.

One of his T-shirts hung almost to her knees, and her brown dress was laid out on his king-size bed. She glanced around the room, taking in the shades of ebony and cream, punctuated with splashes of raspberry. She knew it was a guest room, surely decorated by his brother or some designer; She knew that this wasn't his home, but she still found herself searching for clues to the man who, as open and genuine as he was, remained a mystery.

A desk took up one corner of the room, its surface neat but peppered with stacks of papers and files. Pictures of his family were everywhere—on the desk, on the nightstand and shelves. It was sweet how much they meant to him. Elena had never had that connection with her parents, and seeing how Damon loved his family only strengthened his appeal.

One picture in particular caught her attention. Damon was hugging his mother from behind. They were both looking into the camera laughing, the ocean behind them no more vivid than their smiles and their dark-coloured hair.

"That was taken at my beach house on Tybee Island," Damon said from the doorway, startling her.

"Sorry." Elena stepped away from the desk. "I wasn't snooping. Just curious."

He walked fully into the room, taking in the oversize Princeton T-shirt and her bare legs peeking out from beneath the hem.

"I guess that is a little big, huh?" He pushed back the hair that had escaped from the knot she haphazardly pinned behind her ear.

"Just a little." Elena tugged at the shirt, conscious that though everything was covered, she was wearing only panties underneath. She had posed nude for Playboy, but one man catching a peek at her business made her self-conscious?

"Are you nervous?" He ducked his head, capturing her eyes and smiling.

"A little." A breathy laugh slipped past her lips. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Not really." He glanced between her and the large bed, his smile widening. "This is a dangerous place to be if I want to stick to my guns."

"Now who is nervous?" Elena teased, a smile she couldn't stop on her face.

"Don't mistake caution for nerves." Damon leaned down to leave a kiss she wanted to deepen on her lips. He pulled away, a knowing smile on his face. He knew damn well how wound up he had her, that if he wanted to have her on that bed right now, he could. This taking it slow thing was new to Elena, especially when she wanted someone as badly as she did.

Only she couldn't remember wanting anyone like this. It was not even that package of him, though she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him thick and hard in her hands. There was more. Maybe the more Damon wanted from her was the same more she wanted from him. It felt foreign, knowing that even if she had sex right now, it wouldn't be enough. What Elena wanted from him went deeper than that. She wanted to know why he was so passionate about third world nations. He told her not to assume she knew what he dreamed about. _What does he dream about?_ She wondered. _If he believes in following the fire, what burns so bright that his whole life shines, inspiring other people to find their own fire?_

And could he inspire her?

It scared the hell out of her.

"I have got the recipe." Damon showed her his phone, an email containing the recipe for dessert.

"Black and blue cobbler?" Elena licked her lips. "That sounds very Southern. Very fattening. And very delicious."

"Are you sure you are a model?" He pressed a warm hand to her back, ushering her out of his bedroom and into the hall. "Because you kind of eat like a horse."

"That is the second time you have called me a horse tonight, Salvatore." Elena laughed as they took the stairs back down. "My fragile self-esteem can't handle it."

"Fragile?" Damon snorted, turning on the light to illuminate a gorgeous kitchen decorated with cherry cabinets and shades of lemon and cranberry. It shouldn't work, but somehow it didn't. The granite counters were clean, saved a few cutting boards evidencing Damon's meal preparations. No man had ever cooked for her. It made her feel special.

Damon made her feel special.

"So we are taking a shortcut."

Damon assembled the ingredients—sugar, flour, butter, vanilla extract, a cup of blackberries and a cup of blueberries, sugar, eggs, and packaged pie crust.

"That is for the topping. My mum would skin me for not making it, but we are pressed for time and this is what my brother had."

"You usually make the crust? Like make it, make it?"

He grinned, opening the crust and sliding it towards Elena.

"Yep, but since it is your first time, I will be gentle with you."

Elena grinned, recognizing her words to him from yesterday.

"Touché." She pointed to the pie crust. "What am I supposed to do here?"

"You will cut that into strips for the cobbler, while I mix all this together." He walked over to the oven, turning a knob. "That is preheating."

He glanced up at her, his blue-grey eyes dancing with hers across the counter.

"You ready?"

"Um, no, but when have I ever waited to be ready to do something?"

Damon surprised her, leaning over the counter to drop a quick, sweet kiss on her mouth.

"This time, with me, you will wait until we are ready, right?"

One minute they were talking about cobbler, and the next they were talking about his timeline for sex.

"How will you know we are ready, Damon?" Elena held his eyes with hers, refusing to release him until he answered.

"We will both know, Elena." He turned his attention back to the ingredients. "You, pie crust. Me, mixing."

For the next few minutes, they worked and talked. It felt so natural, the way they talked about their day, laughing at things that weren't even really that funny except because the other said it. Elena was doing something she had never done before. Making cobbler, yes, but she was sharing herself with Damon in a way that felt as intimate as anything she had ever done, but new and fresh. Like a gulp of ocean air, revitalizing her. Clearing her head.

"Okay, that goes in for forty-five minutes. We got a while before it is done." Damon turned from the stove, leaning against the counter and looking devastating.

He took off the sweater he was wearing earlier, and was wearing a plain dark blue T-shirt, which contrasted with the olive undertone of his skin. His face was a riveting geometry of sharp angles and straight lines, softened by the glow in his eyes that appeared every time he smiled.

"So tell me about Retreat." He settled onto a stool of mahogany and dark brown leather. "What is that all about?"

Elena took the stool beside him, crossing her ankles and resting her feet on the lower stool rung. The T-shirt rode up to about mid-thigh, and his eyes ran over the length of her legs. She didn't pull it down. She loved seeing him want her, even if he wouldn't do much about it yet.

"Ever heard of Goop?" she asked.

"Gwyneth Paltrow?" Damon scrunched up his face in thought. "Her website thing?"

"Yes, her website thing."

Elena tugged at the pins digging into her scalp, securing her hair in the knot behind her ear, until her hair fell past her shoulders. Again, she enjoyed his eyes on her, taking in the silky fall of hair to the middle of her back. She looked up to find Damon studying her, his eyes dark and warm and admiring.

"Retreat is my Goop." She offered a small smile. "More like Preserve, Blake Lively's site, but you get the picture. It is a lifestyle website, but mine has a heavy fashion emphasis."

She gathered some stray flour between her fingers, sifting it and rubbing the velvety texture.

"We partner with artisans and designers who create products specifically for our site. Part of the appeal from their perspective is that half of the profits go to charitable partners."

Damon stared at her like she had grown horns before opening his mouth and then closing it again.

"Charitable partners?" he asked. "Which ones?"

"The Whitmore Foundation, obviously." Elena pulled a clump of hair across her mouth, a girlish habit she never kicked. "I have been their celebrity ambassador for years, but I want to work with other organizations, too. I'm being really careful about which ones, though."

She looked up at him through her lashes, feeling more exposed to him than when she brashly shoved his hand into her panties this morning.

"Maybe you could help me? I mean, to find the right charitable partners."

"Of course." Damon reached over, toying with the ends of the hair hanging just above her breast. "I would love to."

"Really?" A wide smile took over her face. "April is heading up the charitable effort, and the rest of the team handles everything else. You want to see what we have so far?"

"Sure." His eyes flicked from her eyes to her mouth and back again. "Show me."

Elena found herself hunched over his laptop in the office, pulling up the site her team had been working on.

"I love it, Elena." Damon navigated across the various tabs. Some empty, some already filled with content.

"I'm taking a very hand-drawn approach to the aesthetic." She pointed to the sketches for the various aspects of the site. "Along the lines of Megan Hess. In keeping with fashion sketches and design."

She perched on the desk, pulling one leg up and resting her bare foot on the edge.

"And after this initial stage, I want to expand Retreat into my own clothing line, home goods, furniture. The works."

"Elena, that is brilliant." He ran a finger over her hand, resting on the desk for support, the simple contact lighting fire to the goose bumps his touch aroused. "You are brilliant."

"We have all got our things." She shrugged, of all things embarrassed, and looked for something to draw his focus away from her. A glass jar filled with tiny kernels on a shelf behind his desk provided the perfect distraction.

"What is that?" She pointed to the glass jar.

Damon reached for it, stretching across her to grasp it, bringing them closer. He smiled her, acknowledging the magnetic tug between them.

"This is my seed jar." He pointed out the script writing etched across the front, handing it to Elena. "That is a Ugandan proverb."

"Sow seeds in your garden; wait and see what comes with the rain," she read, tracing the faint letters with her nail. "What are these seeds from?"

"Everything we do isn't diamond mining or some grand venture." Damon pulled a seed from the top of the pile, holding it in his palm. "A lot of the places we visit are still primarily agrarian, and the best thing we can do is introduce the farmers to modernized agricultural techniques, show them how to more effectively grow their crops, and, subsequently, provide a better livelihood. Knowledge is the greatest charity because it continues giving."

"Who said that?" she asked, trying to place it.

"I just did." He grinned and plopped the seed back into the jar. "So every time we work with a new village, a new farmer, I keep one of the seeds we plant. I guess it is a collection of sorts. Even though they all blend together, and I couldn't tell you which one belongs to which village now, every single one is special to me."

"That is really cool." Elena's response sounded lame compared to his impassioned eloquence, and she dropped her head, chewing on her bottom lip, feeling like the vapid girl people assumed she was.

Damon tipped her chin up, smiling at her until she smiled back.

"You are right. It is pretty cool."

His eyes fell to her lips. Just as she was sure he would kiss her again, and wanting it so badly, the oven timer went off, signalling the cobbler was ready. Desire tugged taut between them like hot wire. Elena had never let it simmer this way. She had always just given in to it, but there was something about this slow build, this spark that grew hotter and brighter every time they looked but didn't touch. Every time they smiled but didn't kiss.

It made her want Damon more.

"I may be biased," Elena said around a mouthful of warm black and blue goodness, tempered by cold ice cream, "but I think this is the best cobbler I have ever had."

"Have you had much cobbler, Miss Yankee Supermodel?"

"No, can't say I have." She laughed, turning the spoon to cup her tongue. "But I bet it is some of the best ever. We did good."

"Things taste better when you make them yourself." Damon scraped his almost-empty bowl. "Just like things feel better when you build them yourself. I guess. I have never had anything handed to me; I have always built everything from scratch, so I don't have much to compare it to."

"Well, you are right." Elena slid her bowl over to him, still half full since he kept eyeing what she couldn't finish. "I have never felt as good as I do at the end of my workday now. Knowing I'm doing it all myself."

He dug into her cobbler, nodding his agreement.

"I have to work out extra hard tomorrow after all this," he said.

"Oh, will we see you in barre class again?" Elena grinned, her chin resting on the heel of her hand.

"No, back to my Ironman regimen tomorrow." Damon stood and stepped close until his sweet, berry-scented breath brushed her lips. "Besides, I got what I wanted from the class."

"What was that?" She leaned forward another centimetre, tempting him to come the rest of the way. "A date with Anna?"

Damon looked confused for a moment, and then he understood.

"Oh, sorry. I forgot her name. Sweet girl, but no." He inched in, his lips touching hers with his next words. "Was there ever any doubt why I was there? Who I wanted?"

Damon closed the tiny gap separating their lips, the berries barely disguising the deliciousness just beneath that was all him. His tongue, his lips, his mouth. So sweet. So addictive. Elena wanted much more. She was throbbing between her legs for him. She was soaking through her panties for him. She was falling apart inside for him, and it was the merest brush of their lips. The softest tangle of their tongues. Imagine how wonderfully devastated she would be when he fully unleashed himself on her.

Voices in the foyer burst their bubble, the one their kisses fashioned around them.

"Damn," Damon muttered against her lips. "Enzo and Maggie are home. I think I heard Rose's voice too."

Elena smiled, easing forward again to nip his bottom lip. His groan vibrated against her lips.

"And if they hadn't come home"—she pulled back, lifting one challenging brow—"what would you have done, Damon?"

"You mean what will I do, don't you?" He cupped her head, threading his fingers into the long tresses falling around her neck. "There is still the ride home."

Elena hated that she was seeing Enzo again and meeting Damon's assistant and employee for the first time in sopping wet panties and a giant college T-shirt, but she had made worse first impressions.

Rose was a neat little thing, and by the way her eyes went all judgmental when they met hers, Elena realised she was not a fan. She and Rose would be at opposite ends of the pole, for sure, but the easy and obvious affection between Rose and Damon softened her attitude. Rose was probably just protective of him. Elena liked Damon too much to hold that against Rose.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Gilbert." Rose perused her long, bare legs. Elena refused to explain or feel at a disadvantage.

"Likewise, Rose" Elena shook her hand like she was dressed to walk the runway. "I hear you hold things together around here."

Rose's face softened only a little. She was not one to be flattered out of her preconceived notions. Elena would have to prove her wrong. She usually couldn't be bothered convincing people she was anything other than what they expected, but for Rose, for Damon really, she might make an exception.

After Elena had said her good nights to Enzo, Rose and Maggie, and she was back in her dress and Damon and she were in the backseat of the car, heading to her apartment, her stomach twisted and turned, flipped and flopped, like this was the end of her first date. Like she was not sure she would be ready for her first kiss.

"Thank you for riding back with me," she ventured into the quiet of the car as they sped through the night, the East River glimmering through the window.

"You knew I would." Damon slid across the seat until their bodies were flush. "How else could I collect my good night kiss?"

"Oh, you want a kiss?" Elena smiled, her lips tingling with anticipation, full and throbbing and waiting for him.

"I want a lot more than a kiss, Elena," he breathed over her lips. "But we will stay there for now."

Elena glanced at the privacy window, closed and sealing the driver out.

"This legendary self-control of yours." She shook her head, locking their eyes together. "I'm not sure I like it."

"Believe me, you are testing it."

Damon slipped one hand up into her hair, drawing her towards him until their lips touched, burning up all control. Restraint fell away, unshackling the desire they had held at bay all night. His tongue was so deep she could barely breathe, and she loved it. The impossible choice of breathing or having more of him. Elena pulled air through her nose, determined she wouldn't give up even for a second the sweet, hot melding of their mouths.

He caressed her thigh, pushing up her dress and cupping her ass. Her answering touch, over the strong pecs and the tight muscles of his stomach and then the broad back, elicited a groan.

"Touch me, Elena."

Elena's hands relished the brawny beauty of his body. The wide shoulders and thickly corded arms beneath his sweater. She slid her palms over the warm, smooth skin of his back, raking it lightly with her nails. He tugged at the neckline of her dress until it fell away, baring one nipple. He just looked at her in the dim light of the car, barely illuminated by the city lights rushing past.

"My imagination did you no justice." Damon ran one thumb over her nipple. It went painfully tight and Elena pressed her eyes closed. She couldn't take it. If he didn't take her in his mouth, she would die.

But then he did.

He licked the pink-ringed areola, sampling her before his mouth consumed the whole, waiting bud. Elena thought she would die if he didn't taste her, and she was sure she would die now that he had. The pleasure washed over her like a flood, covering her from head to toe. Soaking her. Drowning her. Just as she was sure she would under, the car came to a halt in front of her apartment.

They couldn't stop. There was no way they could stop. There weren't enough cold showers to cool her down. To ease this burn.

"Come up." Elena whispered the words into his mouth, sharing a breath with him. Diving back into the warm, dark depths of him for another kiss. Another stroke of his tongue that licked fire down her throat. His mouth was urgent on hers, and she was sure he would give them both what they wanted, but Damon slowed the kiss, little by little, until it was mere brushes of their lips against each other.

"I will walk you up, of course, but then I should go."

Disappointment congealed in her stomach. All the way up in the elevator, Elena said nothing. Her throat burnt with rejection. She studied the swirl pattern of the marble floor, so glad when the doors whisked open to the penthouse level.

"This is me." She stepped off the elevator, not even sure Damon would follow, but he did.

At the entrance to her apartment, Elena turned to face him, her back pressed to the door.

"Thank you for a lovely evening."

"Aren't you polite?" Damon dipped his head, trailing kisses down her neck and over her collar bones until his lips were at her ear. "Do you think I don't want to, Elena?"

Elena shook her head, pushing her lips into a self-deprecating smile.

"I guess you don't want to as much as I do."

This man continued to surprise her. He took her hand and slid it down to the bulge in his pants. Her breath caught at how thick and hard he was under her fingers. She squeezed to assure her libido it was all him. It was all real, and soon it would be all hers.

"All the time, Elena." He left kisses along the underside of her jaw and whispered them across her lips. "That is how I feel all the time around you."

"Then why—"

"More." Damon pulled back and peered into her eyes, still searching for something she didn't even know that she could give him. "I want more from you than you have ever given anyone else."

"What if I can't give it?"

He smiled, tracing a finger over her brows and down her chin, finally touching her lips.

"Have dinner with me again tomorrow night."

That look was back, the one that poked at her surface and tugged at her stitching, loosening her, freeing her a little more every time. Of all the pleasures Elena imagined with him, it was this look she was finding hardest to resist.

"Okay. Tomorrow then."


	15. Chapter 15

Elena had gone all out.

Last night at Damon's place was incredible. It was intimate and warm and private. Tonight was their first time…out, unless you count their argument on Fifth Avenue. Elena didn't go much of anywhere without being recognized. Even before she modelled, she and Aaron were in the public eye by virtue of who their fathers were. Everyone, especially her, assumed they would end up together, and the media started tracking them early on. Even her debutante pictures appeared in W magazine. She didn't even think about it anymore really. But tonight, they would know she was with Damon, and she wanted him to be…she didn't know, proud. She was used to walking into a room and knowing every man wanted her. She wanted everyone to know that she wanted Damon. That she was dressed for him. That at least for tonight, she was his.

One last glance in the mirror confirmed that she had done Caroline proud. Caroline was more anxious about tonight than Elena was. She cleared her schedule for a wash and trim, facial, and all-over body wax. She didn't have the heart to tell Caroline the Brazilian would probably be wasted tonight.

Her hair fell past her shoulders. She went dramatic with her makeup, eyes fully smoked out. Her lips were pale petal pink, almost nude. Her leather skirt gripped her body from waist to knee, then flared to a peplum hem. The blush-coloured silk blouse sheathed her arms tightly and plunged just below the curve of her breasts, offering flashes of skin but no nipple. She didn't think Damon would like that. She had finished the look with classic black Louboutins and a simple clutch. At the last minute, she slipped the pink diamonds her father gave her for her sixteenth birthday into her ears.

Just as Elena was giving herself the final perusal, the wall intercom buzzed. She pressed the button to answer.

"Miss Gilbert," Clive from the front desk said. "You have a visitor. He is not on your list, so I wanted to check before I sent him up, of course. A Mr Salvatore."

"Yes, send him up, Clive. Thanks."

Elena took a steadying breath and shook out her hands. She used to feel this way before rowing competitions. Excited. Nervous. Eager. She was a teenager then. Over the years, she had shooed away all the butterflies, but they were back tonight, fluttering in her belly with acrobatic turns. When she opened the door for Damon, they flapped their wings triple time.

"Hi." His smile was her favourite thing about this day so far.

His flawlessly tailored suit was black. It was another three-piece, this time with a silvery blue shirt and a complementing tie. François would eat this man alive. Most of the male models Elena knew were slim or "gym" muscled. François would love the challenge of dressing this man with his big, tight body. She loved the challenge of him for a completely different reason.

Damon leaned down to kiss her lips lightly. She enjoyed the brief contact, but didn't press for more. She had decided she was just going to let this happen. Let him set the pace. He knew she was ready when he was.

"You look…" He trailed off, tilting his head to one side like he was considering. "You will do, I guess."

Elena chuckled, pleased by the way his eyes belie his words. Damon hadn't looked anywhere but at her since she opened the door. It felt good. She had lived with this shell so long, she took it for granted except as a means to her ends, but tonight he made her happy that she looked the way she did. Happy that her appearance pleased him.

"So where to tonight?" Elena asked from the backseat of the car as they pulled off.

"There is this new seafood place called Minnow. Have you heard of it?"

"Yeah." She whistled. "Tough to get a last-minute reservation. It is on everyone's list right now."

"Yeah, tough unless you are a sheikh." Damon took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "One of Aaron's friends got me a reservation on short notice."

"Sheikh Kassim?"

He nodded. "Yeah, he loves Aaron."

"Are you okay with such a popular place?" He bent his brows into a frown. "We could go somewhere less public, if you prefer."

"It is fine." Elena twisted her fingers so it was her turn to rub his knuckles. "I'm excited about tonight. I haven't been out in a few weeks."

"Since the quarterback?" His voice remained neutral, but his eyes told her he didn't like the thought of her with Matt. She couldn't undo her relationship with Matt, or with any of the men she had known over the years.

"Yeah. Not since Matt."

"How did he take the breakup?"

"He is still taking it." Elena laughed, but there wasn't much humour because she actually felt bad about how things with Matt ended. Not bad that she called it off, but that it ever started in the first place.

"Is he giving you problems?" Damon's frown grew heavier and darker.

"And if he was giving me problems?"

"I would solve them."

Damon didn't grin or follow up with some phrase to lighten the moment. He left it heavy with his honesty. He meant it. Elena hadn't had anyone interested in solving her problems for her in a long time. On the one hand, it had taught her independence. On the other, it had left her in many ways alone.

"We are here." He stepped out, reaching a hand back to help her from the car. This place opened only a few weeks ago and became an instant hot spot. It was crawling with celebrities, so Elena was hoping she would go unnoticed. New York wasn't LA. The paparazzi weren't assaulting you as soon as you stepped into the street. They were subtler, but no less thorough. She was sure there was some camera discreetly aimed her way right now. She hoped this outfit looked good on Page Six.

A long line stretched from the maître d's podium to the door. Elena saw a few flashes and recoiled inside. She didn't want everyone speculating about what Damon and she were to each other. They probably didn't know too much about him, so they would dig, and she already knew what they would find. A brilliant philanthropist and businessman with a conscience. A good man. If she was honest, she really didn't want them speculating on what he saw in her. Probably because she was not sure herself.

"Let me check on the reservation." Damon grabbed her hand and started forward.

"Can I wait here?" she asked. "It is a bit of a crowd up there, and I just saw a few people I don't want to run into."

He searched her face, looking for the solid truth behind her flimsy excuse.

"Okay." He leaned down to kiss her temple. "I will be right back."

"I will be right here." She reached up to run an affectionate hand over his hair.

With a quick grin, Damon set off, broad shoulders pressed forward, and people stepping aside because he walked like they should move when he was coming through.

Someone touched her hair. Random touches in public made Elena nervous. She had had stalkers before. She didn't mean it when she threatened Damon with a restraining order, of course, but she had had to do it before. More than once, and someone touching her hair reminded her just how vulnerable she was in situations like this. She jerked her head away from the touch, looking around to see who dared.

"Elena?" A blonde man about her height, maybe a little shorter when she was wearing her Louboutins, stood behind me. "I thought that was you."

"Klaus?" Elena's heart dropped like mercury in a thermometer, plummeting from tropical to sub-zero.

"I can't believe it is you." He pulled her close, an arm around her waist before Elena could stop him. "It has been years."

Klaus dipped his head to smell her hair, a long inhale like he was absorbing her through his senses. She was still frozen. Every fibre of her being screamed at her to pull away, but her body couldn't move, couldn't catch up to the alarms going off in her head.

"I hoped I would see you." His accented voice was husky in her ear. "But after all this time, I didn't think I actually would."

Klaus pulled back, just enough to study her face, but kept their bodies interlocked. His dark eyes probed hers, searching for trace elements of what they had in Milan years ago.

He wouldn't find them, Elena thought. He would never find them.

"Let me go, Klaus." Her body finally woke up enough to struggle against his tight hold.

"Elena, we should talk." His eyes became earnest, a familiar desperation Elena used to think was all about her, but wasn't. Everything with Klaus was about Klaus. "I have missed you. All these years, I have missed you."

"I asked you to let me go, Klaus." Elena hardened her voice so he would know she meant it. "I don't want a scene tonight."

"A scene? No, of course not." His hold relaxed, but he didn't relinquish her. "Are you alone, dear?"

"No, she is not," Damon's deep-voiced reply came from behind them. He stretched his hand to Elena, eyes sliding between Klaus and her. For a second, Klaus' hold tightened, like he wouldn't let go, but after a few moments of Damon's hard eyes drilling into him, Elena was free. She stepped away, taking Damon's hand gratefully and putting much-needed space between her former lover and herself.

"You okay, Elena?" Damon's eyes softened on her.

"I'm fine," Elena whispered up to him, a small smile crooking her mouth. His returning smile lasted only a second before he went back to studying the silent man watching them.

Klaus' eyes dropped to her hand linked with Damon's, a humourless smile curving his sensual mouth. How Elena used to love that mouth and the wicked things he used it for on her. She loved his dark blond hair, his dark blue-green eyes. Now she couldn't look at him without feeling sick to her stomach. They had some good times, but the bad casted a wide, dark shadow over anything good they ever shared. It was all lies. He was all lies.

"Elena, aren't you going to introduce us?" Klaus' eyes raked her body with familiarity before drifting to Damon. He wasn't subtle, and Elena felt Damon tensed at her side.

She cleared her throat, wanting to get this over with so they could just go to their table and try to salvage an evening that started with such promise, but had soured and curdled like milk gone bad before the expiration date.

"Of course." With her free hand, she gestured towards Klaus. "Damon, this is Klaus Mikaelson, a photographer I worked with a lot when I first started out. Klaus, this is Damon Salvatore. My date."

Elena said the last two words deliberately, being as clear as she could that she wanted nothing to do with Klaus anymore. It hadn't worked in the past. Klaus was part of the reason she was so protective of her cell number. He always managed to find it. Always managed to find her. After all these years, she had hoped he had stopped looking, stopped trying. _Has he been following me?_ she wondered.

Klaus extended a tanned, slim hand to Damon, a smug smile on his handsome face.

"Nice to meet you, Mr Salvatore."

Damon ignored the hand politely extended, turning his attention back to Elena.

"Elena, our table is ready."

The obvious snub had no effect on Klaus except to make him smile wider as his hand dropped to his side.

"I'm ready."

Elena looked up at Damon, searching for the easy warmth they shared before this skeleton from her past slithered out of the closet. His eyes, though, were cold and stony on Klaus. _What does he sense in him?_ Elena couldn't stop asking herself. Damon saw more than most men. He was more discerning than most men she had met. She knew from very personal experience that Klaus was not a good man. From the way Damon looked at him like he was a rodent at the dinner table, she believed he saw past the handsome façade to the rotten core.

They were turning to leave when another voice from the past cracked into the tight silence the three of them occupied.

"Elena Gilbert?" A tall, slim woman with light olive skin, hazel green eyes, and dark brown hair demanded from Klaus' side. She might be coming from the ladies' room or from the street. It really didn't matter. All that matters was that Hayley Mikaelson was here now, her eyes as alive with hatred for Elena as they were the last time they saw each other.

"Klaus, darling," Hayley hissed, her voice heavily accented, hurt and anger clouding her eyes. "Our first night in New York, a city with millions of people, and you manage to find her. Did you know she would be here?"

"No, Hayley." Klaus remained calm in the face of his wife's impassioned rebuke. "I had no idea. Purely coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidence." Hayley turned those turbulent eyes on Elena. "Stay away from my husband, bitch."

Damon swore under his breath before taking an ominous step towards the couple.

"Listen here, lady," he said, voice thickening with the anger practically vibrating off him. "Elena is with me. I brought her here, and she didn't even know where we were eating. So she didn't arrange to meet your husband. I don't hit girls, but if you insult her again, I will take it out on your little man here."

Damon raised both brows, looking between the husband and wife.

"We clear?"

They both just stared at him before nodding.

Damon invaded Klaus' space in a few steps.

"And if I catch your hands on her again, you won't be taking anyone's pictures for a long time. Got it?"

Klaus stared back at Damon, not agreeing or disagreeing, just smiling like he knew something Damon didn't. And it was true. Klaus knew things Elena didn't want Damon to know, but would probably have to tell him after this. But not here. No one was really paying attention. This near-disastrous tableau played out with little to no drama. With the dinner crowd none the wiser, but she couldn't stay. Without another word, Hayley and Klaus walked off, presumably to their table. She turned to Damon, swallowing the dregs of her anxiety. The more room between Klaus and her, the better she felt, but she still couldn't answer Damon's questions in this room full of people. And it was obvious from the firm, straight line of his mouth and the hard eyes that he wanted his questions answered.

"Could we go?" Elena asked, hoping he wouldn't question her about that, too.

"Sure." Damon's eyes followed the path Klaus and Hayley took into the dining room. "Can't say I want to be the same room as those two. I can call the car service, and a car will be here in a few."

That encounter shoved her back into a stuffy, dank room she hadn't been inside for years. She could use the air.

"Or we could walk." Elena squeezed his hand, offering him a hopeful smile. "My place is just a few blocks away."

"And we will eat what?" Finally a teasing smile appeared on Damon's face.

"Don't expect me to cook." Elena tried a laugh that sounded close to normal. "But I have a variety of delivery menus for us to choose from."

"So I dressed up for nothing?" Damon tossed her words from last night at her, and she volleyed right back.

"No, you dressed up for me."

"Yes, I did." He bent until his forehead rested against hers, laying his hand in the same spot at her back Klaus touched moments ago. The heavy weight of his hand was so different from Klaus', whose hands on her made her stomach heave.

They started the short walk, and Elena thanked God she broke these Louboutins in a few months ago, or this would have been a really bad idea. Damon swung their hands between them, the gesture somehow innocent. Pure. So different from the story she had to tell him before the night was over. Practically before it had even begun.

"Who was that man to you, Elena?" Damon dropped the quiet question between their swinging hands.

"Can we just walk?" Elena watched their linked fingers. Hers were almost lost in his grip. "We will talk at my place. Is that okay?"

Damon nodded and dropped her hand, pulling her closer, sliding his arm around her waist, tucking her under his shoulder. Elena burrowed into the scent and strength of him. She wished she could hide from her past here in the shadow of this mountain of a man, but she couldn't. First Liam Davis and now Klaus. Karma was a bitch hot on her heels, gaining ground. Outpacing her.

Dread pricked the lining of her stomach. Her past with Klaus wasn't pretty. She couldn't tell Damon all of it, the things no one knew, but even the part she would share might make him want her less. Because she knew Damon didn't want her for her face or her body or her long dark brown hair that always fascinated Klaus. It was the promise, the possibility, that there was something behind the Goddess persona worth touching, worth having in his life. Elena was afraid her story would convince him otherwise.

She was afraid Damon would walk away.

All these weeks she thought she wanted that. She pushed him to leave her alone. Now the thought of him giving up on her scared her, disappointed her more than she wanted to admit.

When we were young, we lived for the good times, setting moments on fire, laughing and dancing in the flames. We were invincible. That was what Elena had always believed. No one would tell you the memories might haunt you like ghosts, knocking around when the house was quiet and you were alone with your regret. No one would warn you about the rubble of your destruction. No one would tell you that you would get burned, and those fiery moments become your mistakes. At least no one told Elena. She wished someone had. With this good man at her side who deserved more than the ashes of her transgressions, she wished more than anything someone had told her.


	16. Chapter 16

Damon was not a huge fan of Indian food, but Elena's eyes lit up over that menu, so that was the one he chose. He was just hanging up with the place around the corner when she came back into the living room, dressed down. As good as she looked dressed to kill, there was no doubt he preferred the yoga pants and off-the-shoulder sweatshirt she wore now.

"Sorry I don't have anything that would fit you." Elena laughed up at him, shorter without her high heels. "Glad you made yourself at least more comfortable."

His suit jacket, vest, and tie were draped over the couch. He had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and even poured himself a bourbon. Damon was the picture of relaxed male, but inside he was still seething over what happened at the restaurant. That weasel touching Elena. That woman calling her a bitch. He had been keeping a rein on his temper, but it was fraying. Every time he thought about the way Klaus Mikaelson looked at Elena, about his proprietary touch, he wanted to smash something. Preferably something shaped like his head.

"I ordered the food." They sat down on the couch beside each other. "Are you sure the rice and vegetables will be enough? Where is my horse tonight?"

"Oh, it will do." Elena pulled her long hair up and off her neck before letting it fall around her shoulders again. "The horse has a shoot in a few days, and it takes more than barre classes to look good naked."

Her eyes flew up to meet his.

"Not actually naked. I will be wearing panties."

There was a brief silence.

"And, well, that's it. Just the panties." She scrunched up her face. "Sorry. It is my job."

"I get it."

 _I don't like it, but I get it,_ Damon said to himself.

Elena was nervous. He could make small talk until their food arrives, but he was not good at that. He wanted to know who Klaus was…to her. If they weren't lovers, he would eat his shoe. He knew Elena was not some shrinking virgin. She was confident and unashamed of her sexuality. He liked that about her actually, but there was more to Klaus. It seemed that he was always looking for more when it came to Elena, but this time Damon was not sure he would like what he found.

"You are dying to ask me about Klaus, right?" Elena teased him, but her eyes couldn't quite catch up to her tone.

"Yeah, a little bit."

Damon scooted close enough to pull her head down to his lap so he had an aerial view of her face. She relaxed slightly, flipping her legs up and letting her feet dangle over the arm of the couch at the other end. She closed her eyes and sighed before looking up at him.

"I left home right after high school." Elena pulled a chunk of her hair across her mouth before speaking again. "I needed to get away from here, from this city, from this life. To do something nobody saw coming, not even me."

"Is that why you turned down all the college offers?" Damon stroke the hair back from her face, tracing her silky eyebrows with his thumb. "Just needed a different direction?"

"Well, and remember I thought I was biding my time until Aaron popped the question." Elena rolled her eyes. "I could have worked at the 7-Eleven for all I cared. It was just temporary. Something fun to do until Aaron came to his senses."

She gave a quick shake of her head.

"Such a fool." She shrugged. "Anyway, I left New York altogether and lived in Milan for a year or so. I didn't know it would become all that it did. A career that lasted this long."

"At eighteen?" Damon knew he shouldn't be so astounded. By twenty-one, he and Enzo had started Mystic Corp, but fresh out of high school living on her own in Italy? "Your parents let you do that?"

Elena blinked up at him, a frown crinkling her smooth skin.

"How could they have stopped me? I was making so much money modelling, and honestly, they just didn't care."

His mother sent him care packages every month during his freshman year. He couldn't imagine his parents being that detached.

"In hindsight, I wish they had found a way to stop me." He barely heard Elena's addendum it was so quiet. "They left me to my own devices, and I got in a lot of trouble."

"With Klaus?" Damon went still while he waited for her answer. Even though he suspected they were lovers, he hoped she would say no.

"Yes, with him."

He hoped he managed to hide his disappointment, but maybe he didn't because Elena sat up abruptly, pulling away from him and leaning her elbows on her knees, avoiding his eyes.

"We met at a shoot on the Riviera when I was barely twenty," she continued, eyes on the carpet, on her bare feet, on everything but him. "It was our first time working together, but after that, he would suggest me, request me, recommend designers use me. People started calling me his muse."

Elena stood up, shoving her fingers through her hair, linking them on her head and blowing out a breath.

"I was so stupid, naïve. Flattered." Her bitter laugh broke the silence. "He wanted me and I wanted him. It was that simple, but I had no idea how complex things would become."

"What happened?"

"We had an affair." Elena dropped her arms to her side, looking at Damon unblinkingly, her eyes not hiding a thing. "I knew he lived in Barcelona, but he was with me so much in Milan, I didn't ask questions. At least not the right questions."

"He was already married."

It was a statement, not a question, because Damon could see how a man would betray his vows for a woman like Elena. He would never do it—could never do it—but a man like Klaus seized every opportunity, even the ones that didn't belong to him. And it was only now he understood that Elena responded so strongly last night when he asked if she still had feelings for a married man because she wasn't thinking about Aaron. She was thinking about Klaus.

"I didn't know." Elena dropped her head back, fixing her eyes on the modern light fixtures overhead. "And no one thought to tell me. We weren't even discreet because I didn't think we had anything to hide. It is only now, looking back, that I realize how clever he was. Living freely in another country, but managing to keep our relationship relatively quiet in another. I wasn't nearly as recognizable then as I am now, but still…"

"But things blew up eventually?"

"Boy, did they. We were at Fashion Week in Paris, and I assumed we would go to dinner after my show, but Hayley had decided to surprise Klaus." Elena licked her lips. "There was a horrible scene. Everyone heard her calling me…well, what she called me tonight. She is high strung and, from what I can tell, emotionally unstable. I wanted to break things off with Klaus, but he told me their marriage had been over for a long time."

"So you continued the affair after you found out about his wife?" Damon wanted her to say no.

"Yeah, I did." She looked at him and then away, swallowing before continuing. "It was…complicated. When I finally did come to my senses, he still wouldn't leave me alone for a long time."

Elena sighed, dropping her eyes to the floor and chewing one corner of her mouth.

"Right before I broke things off for good, Klaus and I had lunch in Paris, and pictures were taken. Pictures got out." Elena ran her palms over her thighs in the yoga pants. "Hayley saw the pictures and apparently tried to kill herself. Came pretty close. She took some pills. It was everywhere. All over the papers. I was barely twenty years old and I was already labelled a home wrecker. I eventually put it behind me. Moved on to someone else. Hell, I even had my shot with Aaron, but this thing with Klaus will always follow me."

She hazarded a glance up at Damon, eyes braced for judgment.

"Say something." An ugly twist of her lips interrupted the flawless face. "Tell me how wrong I was. That I should be ashamed of myself."

She shook her head, aggravating the corner of her mouth with her teeth.

"Won't be anything I haven't heard before from everyone else." She sighed. "From myself."

Damon once got the chance to view a king's private collection of artefacts. Everything was ancient, fragile. Some of the items looked as sturdy as the day they had been created, but that wasn't true. If he had handled them too roughly, without care, they could literally have shattered in his hands. That was how this felt. Some of Elena's hurts she had been carrying around since she was still a girl, and she might appear tough, but he senses that how he handled this moment set the tone for how they would go forward. Despite what she just told him, he wanted to go forward. The last thing he wanted was for Elena to shatter in his hands.

He stood up to take her hands between his. She didn't look up from their fingers mixed up together. He took her chin between his fingers gently, tipping up until she had to look into his eyes.

"We all make mistakes, Elena," Damon said softly. "I hope people won't judge me forever for the stupid stuff I did when I was twenty years old."

"Yeah, by twenty-one you and Enzo had already started Mystic Corp." Elena shook her head, dropping her eyes again. "You don't have to make up stuff to make me feel better. Like I said, you are a good guy, and I'm—"

"I am a good guy," He cut in before she could bring up the old argument again. "But I'm not perfect. Just like you made mistakes, but aren't a bad person. We learn from our mistakes so we don't make them again. It sounds like you learned from yours."

She nodded, but didn't elaborate. He had many more questions, but they were put on hold when the intercom buzzed for their food coming up. They didn't about Klaus while Elena ate her vegetables and rice, or while he devoured his curry chicken. He felt that it was deliberate, and that Elena redirected their discussion on purpose.

"So I told you about Retreat." Elena took a long draw from her bottled water. "Tell me what is next for you."

Damon set aside the other questions he had about Milan and Klaus and his wife because he was still learning about Elena, but he knew she had reached her limit for tonight. All his life he had pushed until he got what he wanted, but with Elena, it was clear to him if he pushed too much, she would just walk away.

"Next? What do you mean?"

"After Mystic Corp." She sank into the deep cushions of the cream-colored couch, pulling up one knee to wrap her arm around it. "I know you are not just riding off into the sunset, so what is your next step?"

Damon hesitated because his next steps were…still forming, and the wrong person knowing or saying anything or mishandling the information could ruin everything. He studied Elena for an extra minute, and he might be crazy, but there was nothing in him that saw her as the wrong person.

"It is confidential."

Elena nodded, shifting both feet to the floor.

"I understand if you—"

"So I need you to keep this to yourself."

A small smile settled around her lips, and she nodded again, looking at him while she waited.

"All right. I can do that."

"There is an organization called the Collective." Damon slid closer, taking her hand and linking their fingers. "It is an international organization that aligns leaders from the spheres of business, philanthropy, and politics to financially empower people in developing nations."

"Wow." Elena eyes widened. "That sounds exactly like what you wanted to do through Mystic Corp, right?"

"Yes, it is." He nodded, twisting his mouth. "And even though we have seen the financial success, our efforts are sorely hampered by corrupt, selfish, short-sighted governments more concerned about a privileged few than about the whole."

"I remember Aaron running up against that in Haiti with our orphanage there."

Damon smiled at her use of "our." She really did care about the Whitmore Foundation.

"Haiti and just about every other country we are trying to help," he said. "Politicians with integrity and their country's best interest at heart are the missing link. There are some, though, and the Collective identifies and works with them to achieve our goals."

"Our? You are part of the Collective?"

"Yeah." Damon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees before looking at her. "Once Mystic Corp is sold, they want me to consider leading it."

A wide smile illuminated Elena's face, and with so little makeup, her hair falling around her shoulders, and the casual clothing, Damon imagined she didn't look much different than she did when Klaus first met her. First lied to her. Damon knew she wanted to talk about something else, but it was all he could think about.

"Damon, that is incredible." She squeezed his hand, dipping her head to study him more closely. "Right?"

"Right. It is not a done deal, but right."

"What is left to do?" A small frown touched her face.

"I'm not their only candidate." Damon shrugged and turned down the corners of his mouth. "There are a few other people they are considering. I'm sure my age is a concern."

"Because you are so old?" She grinned and wrinkled her nose.

"Excuse me? I'm thirty-five. In their world, I'm a puppy."

"Thirty-five?" She stretched her eyes wide. "That old? I'm surprised you could keep up in Jalene's barre class."

"Is that so?"

Damon inched towards her, flattening her back into the cushions until his chest pressed her back completely. She was tall and it was easy to forget how slim she was. She felt fragile under him, like he could break her, and he pulled back just a little. Elena reached up to run a hand over his head, digging her fingers deliciously into his scalp. _Damn, that feels good,_ he thought.

"So that is what you want to do next?" she asked.

"It is what I hope to do next, but there is a vote." His hands found the silky, warm skin of her back beneath the sweatshirt. "I really don't want to talk about the Collective right now, Elena."

Elena relaxed into his hold, relinquishing herself to him, if only in this small way.

"What do you want to talk about?" Her voice dropped, husky with quick-building heat.

"I don't want to talk at all."

"Is that so?" She leaned up, taking his bottom lip between hers, eyes wide opened and fixed on him. "What do you want to do then?"

Damon answered with his mouth, with his hands, with a kiss. Her fingers skimmed his neck, his shoulders, until she was cupping his face and kissing him slowly, each stroke into his mouth deep and deliberate. His hips pushed into her, into her soft heat, and she pushed back. They moaned into each other, his hand cupping her head, holding her still so he could penetrate the hot, wet heat of her mouth over and over, deeper every time. Her fingers worked at his shirt buttons until her hands brushed across his chest, making his nipples tight and hard. He feathered kisses across her shoulder where the sweatshirt fell away, pulling the soft skin into his mouth. He pushed at the material with his chin until his mouth reached her breast, the nipple already tight and plump before he even started sucking.

Damon didn't know what to do with this. He had never wanted a woman with this intensity. It was more than the softness of her breasts pressed into him. More than the long slim legs that bracketed his hips as he stretched her back on the couch. More than the heat of their bodies seeking each other. This felt so good, and there was only one thing he wanted more than to be inside her body right now: to know what was in her heart, what was in her head. But he couldn't stop. For the first time in his life, Damon literally didn't think he could stop. He, the master of control, was spiralling into this heat so deeply he couldn't remember why he should stop.

He wouldn't stop, and Elena wouldn't stop him.

But his phone stopped them. Enzo's damn ring tone sang from his pocket.

"Dammit," Damon muttered against her lips. "It is Enzo."

"Don't answer." Elena reached down, gripping his cock. "Stay with me, Damon."

He would. He dipped his head to take her mouth again while her hand pulled on him through his pants. Just when he was sure he would explode in her hands, the strident ring tone shattered the passion, no matter how much they tried to ignore it. Elena breathed heavily and pulled back.

"I think I remember him disturbing us last night right around this time." She gave Damon a quick peck, pulling the sweatshirt up to cover her breasts. "You better get it. And tell Enzo he is a cock blocker."

They both laughed, and Damon reluctantly pulled away from her warm body, sitting up and pulling his phone from his pocket.

"The world better be on fire, Enzo."

"Were you busy?" Enzo asked.

"Uh, I'm on a date, remember? This better be important" Damon smiled at Elena. "Elena and I are having a moment."

"Oh." A pause while Enzo remembered Elena. "Oh. Sorry, man, but I thought you would want to see this story on CNN. Are you near a TV?"

"Yeah." He looked at Elena. "Remote?"

She opened a drawer in the ottoman in front of the couch and pulled out the remote, offering it to him.

On-screen Damon recognized Marcus Clarke, a South African businessman and current leader of the Collective, right away. He was being led away in handcuffs, and the headline mentioned financial misappropriations and sexual misconduct.

"Dammit, they found out," he said to Enzo.

"Yeah, so much for people thinking Clarke was just seeking other opportunities. I know you were hoping the truth wouldn't come out, but looks like it has."

"Thanks. Guess I will be dealing with this all day tomorrow." Damon blew out a frustrated breath, flopping back into the cushions and watching the footage. "See you when I get home."

"Yeah, we can compare dates." Enzo's voice turned eager. "Maggie and I had dinner again."

"That is a great idea, Enzo. And maybe then we can give each other manicures and braid our hair." Damon couldn't help but laugh at Enzo, but he knew his friend could take it. They had been giving each other a hard time for nearly fifteen years. "What the hell?"

"Okay, you are right." Enzo laughed at himself and probably at him. "Night."

"Yeah." Damon hung up and studied the shit storm playing out on Elena's flat screen.

"This is bad, right?" Elena scooted close, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah." He settled back, wrapping his arm around her. "We knew about all the things he had done. We are actually forcing him to resign, but we didn't want to expose all of his misappropriations and other shit, not to protect him, but to protect the integrity of the Collective. So much for that."

She tilted her head back, eyes concerned.

"What's this mean for you?"

"Nothing." He kissed the corner of her mouth before pulling back, studying the flawless bone structure and brown doe eyes that so obsessed Klaus Mikaelson. "It just means the leader we choose will have to have a clean nose. Spotless, actually. Be above reproach in every way."

"Which you are, right?" She smiled, resting her head back on his shoulder.

"As far as I know." Damon brushed his hand over the cool silk of her hair. "I—"

The next story caught his eye, and he stopped to tune in.

"Wow, it is a night for scandal, apparently." He nodded his head towards the screen. "I wonder how that prick Liam Davis will handle this. I knew I didn't like him for a reason."

Elena stiffened beside him, pulling away completely and sitting up on the edge of her seat, eyes glued to the screen.

The headline proclaimed that some intern was accusing Liam Davis of raping her years ago. Apparently, the statute of limitations was up, but Shaunti Miller wanted to step forward and speak out before Liam was elected senator next year.

"Brave girl." Damon rubbed Elena's back, but it was not soft and yielding. The muscles were tight like marble under his hands. "Elena? You okay, sweetheart?"

The endearment kept slipping out. Chalk it up to his Southern roots. Or maybe the fact that his father always called his mother that, and…Damn. He needed to slow down. His mother and his father? If Elena even suspected that was where he went in his head, she would probably change her phone number. But right now, that seemed to be the least of her concerns. She was on her feet, walking in tiny circles like a wind-up toy. Pushing her hair back. Wrapping her arms around her body.

"Elena, are you okay?" Damon stood and stopped her pacing, holding her by the shoulders. "What is wrong?"

Elena lifted her eyes to him and lied. Just as sure as he knew his own name, he knew she was lying.

"Nothing." She creased her mouth into a smile as fake as the tofu in her takeout. "I'm fine. Just tired. Mind if we call it a night?"

Damon looked back at the screen, seeing pictures of Liam smiling that too-white politician smile and the young woman accusing him of rape. He was so distracted by the Collective drama, it was taking him time to assemble things in his mind, but now he remembered Elena's reaction to Liam at the dinner the night they met. The silent messages they exchanged with each glance until she left the table like she was being chased.

Damn.

"Did he hurt you?" It came out harsher than Damon intended, the abrasion of his tone making her jump slightly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to…Elena, did Liam Davis hurt you?"

Elena dropped a curtain over her eyes, over her whole face, and lied to him again.

"No." She shook her head adamantly. "No, of course not. I just…we went to high school together. He is one of my father's associates. So, I was, um, shocked, of course. That's all."

"Elena, you know you can tell me if—"

"I have early meetings." She stepped out of his hold, adjusting her sweatshirt until her shoulder was covered, gripping the fabric with white knuckles. "Can we talk tomorrow?"

This was another time when Damon wanted to push because if Liam did what he thought he did, he would crush Liam Davis. But Elena looked more fragile than he had ever seen her. Strain painted a tight, white circle around her mouth. Her eyes were dark, the pupils stretched like she was in shock. And when he took her hands and raised them to his lips, they were cold. She was like ice, so frozen she could shatter with just the slightest pressure. So he didn't press right now. He just dropped a kiss on her hair and walked out the door.


	17. Chapter 17

Elena stared at the sketches splayed across her desk, but didn't see them. She hadn't really seen anything since that report last night on Liam and the woman accusing him of raping her eight years ago. His face and hers burnt her retina, leaving a phantom impression that eclipsed everything else. His face—confident and smug. Hers—resolved, but frightened.

Elena gave up. She was useless today.

She pushed away from the desk, spinning her seat around to consider the busy street outside her window. She could have been uptown, in the heart of New York City's business world, but she had chosen Soho for her office. A little slower. A hub for artisans. Charming. It was a little more of a drive each day, but Baker didnt mind having the extra minutes with him, she didn't think.

"Elena," Caroline said from her office door.

Elena dragged her eyes away from the street below, forcing herself to meet her friend's stare.

"Yeah, Caroline. What is up?"

"Aaron is on the line." Caroline raised one brow and ran her tongue over her front teeth. "He says he has been calling your cell all morning."

"I have been busy." Elena shrugged, glancing at the phone on the edge of her desk.

Caroline walked into the office, running her fingers over the same three sketches on the desk's surface from an hour ago.

"Yes, I see you are making so much progress here."

Elena shook her head, collapsing into her seat again.

"Tell him I'm in a meeting and that I will call him later."

"Before I deliver that message, he said to let you know if you brush him off, he is coming to Soho."

"Son of a…" Elena scooted forward and picked up the handset. "Line two?"

"Yep," Caroline said, closing the office door behind her.

"Aaron, heard you needed me?"

"I needed you two hours ago." Irritation almost outweighed the concern in his voice. "But you have been ignoring my calls."

"Maybe I have been busy all morning."

"Elena, it is me." He let out a frustrated breath. "You saw the news last night? About Liam Davis?"

"Yeah, I saw." Elena leaned back, crossing one leg over the other and tapping her shoe against the desk. "We have talked about this, Aaron. If Shaunti Miller wants to tell her story, then—"

"She is not."

Elena's foot stopped tapping. She sat up, resting her forehead in one hand.

"But last night—"

"That was last night." Aaron's deep voice went softer. "This morning, she withdrew her accusations."

"But why? What happened?"

"If I were to guess, Liam's people found something to force her back in the closet."

A rock, hard and cold, sat in her chest where her heart should be. She couldn't let herself feel anything because if she felt anything, she would feel everything. And it was too much. After all these years, it was still too much.

"Aaron, what do you expect me to do?"

"What do you want to do, Elena?"

What Elena wanted to do was hard. It was dangerous. It would thrust her into the centre of a horrific storm. What she wanted to do, she didn't think she was strong enough to try.

"I want to keep doing what I have been doing for the last ten years," she finally answered, keeping her voice steady. "Put this behind me. Keep moving forward."

"Elena, if someone as high profile as you are came forward, it might encourage Shaunti to tell her story in spite of what they have on her. Or there could be women we don't even know about who are afraid to tell their stories."

"I can't." Panic crawled up from a dark hole in her belly.

"At least tell your father. He is aggressively selling Liam Davis to the board as a sure thing."

 _How do you admit your own father doesn't care that you were raped?_ Elena thought. _That he is actively pursuing business with the man who did you such harm?_

"He knows, Aaron. I told him."

The silence on the other end puffed up with Aaron's outrage, his anger, his disappointment. All the things she felt at first, but had gotten used to.

"And he…" Aaron faltered. "Grayson knows what happened and is still doing business with that bastard?"

"He thinks I'm remembering it differently than it probably happened. He—"

"Bullshit," Aaron snapped. "You may have been drunk when you finally told me about it, Elena, but you told me enough. The bruises, the—"

"Stop." Elena didn't need him to detail any of it. She had spent all this time doing a great job of forgetting. "Just leave it alone, Aaron."

"I swore to you then I wouldn't expose this," Aaron said. "I won't expose your secret if you are not ready to, but I will work around it."

"What does that mean?" She leaned forward, barely sitting in her seat at his words.

"It means that Augustine is not doing business with a rapist." Aaron paused before going on. "Elena, your father is setting himself against me at every turn, on every front. This could get ugly."

"Damon seemed to think Uncle Nathan is retiring soon, and that you and my father would end up battling for leadership of Augustine."

"Damon?" Something lightened in Aaron's voice. "Damon Salvatore?"

 _Ugh. No. Me and my loose lips. Silly girl,_ Elena cursed herself.

"You have been seeing Damon Salvatore?"

"Aaron, a date or two. Nothing serious."

"He is a good guy. Maybe you should pursue something serious with him. Better him than Matt."

Elena didn't answer because she kind of wanted to keep whatever was happening between Damon and her just between them for a while. Her whole life had been lived in front of cameras, half the time half clothed, wanted something that no one else could see.

"I think he really likes you, Elena."

"Well, he…" She knew devious when she heard it. "Aaron, did you give him my phone number?"

His deep laugh on the other end was all the answer she needed. Instead of being angry, a grin spread over her face.

"You idiot. That man hasn't left me alone since he got back from Cambodia."

"And you like it."

Elena did like it…now, but she was not telling Aaron that.

"Elena, just because you and I weren't right for each other doesn't mean you aren't right for someone else. Someone who will be good to you and call out the best in you. Damon is good at that."

"What if there isn't a best, Aaron?" She swallowed past the lump of uncertainty in her throat, forcing herself to ask the question that held her back. "What if this is as good as it gets?"

"I think there is good in you, a strength in you that you haven't tapped into."

"You really believe that?"

"Why else would I still be your friend?"

"Well, no one really knows that."

They laughed for a moment together, and Elena thought she could finally just be Aaron's friend without the shadow of her parents' misplaced hopes looming over them.

"Elena, please think about at least talking with Shaunti."

"I will think about it," she agreed, but she was still not sure she could.

For another half hour after she ended her call with Aaron, Elena still couldn't focus. She was just about to give up and go home for the day when Gil buzzed her from the reception area.

"Elena, honey."

"Yeah, what's up, Gil?" she asked absently, packing up her laptop and iPad.

"Someone is here to see you." Gil's voice dropped. "A very sexy and handsome someone."

"Did you drool on him, Gil?" Elena was not sure if it was her crazy receptionist making her feel lighter, or the fact that Damon was here to see her. It didn't matter. She hadn't been able to feel better on her own all morning.

"Maybe a little," Gil said with a grin she heard in his voice.

"Send him in." Elena smoothed her hair back into the high ponytail and checked the wide-legged pants and fitted heather cashmere turtleneck she put on this morning.

Damon strode in, closing the door behind him and turning the lock. He was on her in seconds, reversing their bodies so that he was propped against the desk and Elena was standing in the V of his powerful legs. The palm of his hand rested under her chin as he commanded her mouth in a slow kiss that started a fire in her that she knew wouldn't be extinguished in the only way she would find satisfying.

"Hey, you." He dropped kisses over her chin and down her neck until he reached the edge of her sweater. A knowing grin creased his mouth, and he tugged the turtleneck aside to inspect the mark he left there last night.

"I like this," Damon said, eyes piercing hers.

"So do I, that is why I'm not sharing it." Elena leaned a few inches in and up until she could suck at the soft fullness of his bottom lip. "What are you doing here? I thought it was going to be a hectic day with the Collective."

His expression shifted from indulgent to irritated, and she was glad it was not her on the other end of that look.

"Idiots." Damon shook his his head and slid one hand down to the small of her back. "I may have to go to South Africa."

Elena's mouth slipped into a pout. She didn't want him to leave, but she just nodded.

"When?" she asked quietly, hoping she was hiding her disappointment.

"We will see." He shrugged, adding his other hand to her back and pulling her closer. "Come have lunch with me."

Elena glanced at her iPad and purse, already packed and ready to go.

"Your timing is impeccable. I was just leaving."

"In the middle of the day?" Damon frowned and used a finger to tilt her chin, searching her eyes. "Everything okay?"

She had never had much trouble lying to men before, but it was hard with Damon. She looked over his shoulder, avoiding his eyes while she answered.

"Everything is fine. Just trouble focusing."

When he didn't answer, she flicked her eyes up to find him studying her like she was a problem it was taking him too long to solve.

"I think this luncheon is exactly what you need."

"Luncheon?" Elena pulled back, peering up at him. "I thought you said lunch. Is this a thing?"

"It is a thing you will enjoy." Damon stood, letting her go, grabbing her clutch, and handing it to her. "But we will be late if we don't get going."

Elena was just about to dig a little more before fully committing when a loud banging interrupted them.

"Why is this door locked, Elena?" Caroline demanded from the other side. "Are you okay? Open it right now."

Damon and Elena looked at each other with wide eyes for half a second before busting out laughing. Caroline was so dramatic.

Damon walked over and opened the door, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe and blocking Caroline's entrance. Her face was comical, transforming from concerned to dreamy-eyed in a millisecond.

"Damon, hi." She practically blushed. "Sorry. I was worried about…"

She flicked a glance past his shoulder to find Elena leaning against the desk, grinning.

"That little minx there." She glared at Elena. "It is not like her to lock the door, and she has been off all morning, so I was worried."

Elena's grin dropped. She didn't need Caroline talking to Damon about how off she had been this morning. He was too sharp, and he already suspected something happened with Liam. She headed towards the door, ready to get out of here.

"I'm fine, as you can see." Elena slipped her arm through Damon's. "And would you stop looking like that at my…..."

Damon's eyes dropped to her brows up, waiting for her to finish that sentence, which she couldn't do. She couldn't very well call him her boyfriend after two dates. She might never call him that.

"Just stop looking at him like that," she finished lamely.

"Screw you, Elena," Caroline fired back. "I was just glad to see Damon again and I—"

"Again?" she interrupted. "I didn't realize you two had actually met."

Now that Elena thought of it, Caroline's greeting was awfully familiar for someone who had only seen pictures and videos. Caroline started stuttering, and she smelled a rat with black and pink hair.

"Um, we…well, there was that time…we…" Caroline looked at Damon as if waiting for him to help, but he just grinned, apparently enjoying her friend's discomfort as much as she was.

All her processes had been delayed today because of the craziness with Liam, but she was starting to catch up. Why didn't she realize this before? Only one other person knew her schedule, and that person was standing right in front of her.

"It was you! You told him about my barre class." Elena put her hands on her hips, her clutch in one fist. "I should have known."

Caroline looked like she was cooking up some lie, but she abandoned that and just went with the truth.

"Yeah, it was me." She slid a look up and down Damon's suit-clad body. "You can thank me later."

"I warned you about those looks." Elena poked her shoulder and pushed her out of her way. "Back to work, peasant. We are going to lunch."

"Well, all right, your majesty." Caroline followed them out past Gil and to the elevator. "And will you be back?"

"No, she won't." Damon grinned down at Elena, a hand at her back, ushering her into the elevator. "She is gone for the day."

He challenged her with a look, like maybe he was expecting her to protest, but she didn't. She couldn't. She needed to get out of here.

"You heard the man," Elena said to Caroline as the doors closed. "I'm gone for the day."

The luncheon was at Park Lane Hotel off Central Park. Traffic was insane, so they opted to walk the last few blocks. It was a brisk day, even though it was only mid-October. Elena should have grabbed at least a jacket, and a gust of wind made her shiver. Damon pulled her under his arm, shielding her from the wind.

"Cold?" He smiled at her, his warm blue-grey eyes chasing away the shivers.

"Just a little chilly, I guess."

Elena loved being this close to him, loved his consideration even more than the warmth his body provided. They were almost at the door when someone called her name.

"Elena!"

She turned her head to see a man quickly approaching them. A boy, really. He was maybe only nineteen or so. The wind ruffled his brown hair, and his blue eyes were lit and eager and fixed on her. She was not sure he even noticed the mountain of muscle going stiffer and stiller and more alert the closer he got to them.

"Hi, Elena." His cheeks went pink, but he looked at her straight in the eye. "I can't believe it is you."

"It is me." Elena smiled, relaxing because she had done this about a million times since she started modelling. Since she was his age. "How are you?"

"I'm…I'm great!" he gushed. "I'm such a huge fan. I have all your Sports Illustrated bathing suit issues. And, of course, the Playboy spread."

His cheeks went even pinker when he mentioned Playboy. He finally looked at Damon, maybe realizing it was not the most appropriate time to mention seeing her nude.

"Um, yeah. Like I said, I'm a big fan." He glanced between Damon's unsmiling face and hers. "I don't want to bother you."

"But you already have," Damon said, eyes flinty.

"Damon, it is okay." Elena squeezed his hand. "What do you need…what was your name?"

"Barry." His grin was back, wider now. "The name is Barry. If you could just sign something for me."

Elena was assuming he was not just carrying pictures of her around randomly, so she was not sure what he wanted her to sign. She hoped it was not anything weird, or Damon might snap him in the middle of the street.

From his backpack, Barry pulled out a pen and a subway map, offering them to her. She sketched a quick autograph and handed it back to him.

"Wait till I show the guys on the team." He carefully slipped the subway map into his bag. "I just knew it had to be Photoshopped. Like I didn't think you could look like this in real life, but you do. You are the prettiest girl I have ever seen."

It was amazing how time changed your perspective. There was a time when those words would have meant the world to her, and now compliments about her looks were like single drops of rain in a deluge. They had no impact. They made no difference. Indistinct from all the other words people said.

"Thank you, Barry." Elena grabbed Damon's hand. "We need to go. Nice meeting you."

Damon didn't wait for him to respond, but just started walking towards the hotel.

"Does that happen a lot?" he asked, taking her hand in his.

They were holding hands. In public. _Are we there yet?_ Elena thought. They had only two dates, and they both ended up at home, but it felt like they had known each other for longer. For deeper. Maybe it felt like more already because Damon set out to make it more. Whatever it was, her hand felt right in his.

"All the time." She couldn't help but laugh. "It used to give me a thrill. Now it is a little bit of a nuisance sometimes, but it usually doesn't take long to be nice. They build this image up in their heads about you. I at least try to be less of a bitch than usual."

Damon still wasn't smiling, so she squeezed his hand and smiled at him.

"It is not a big deal."

"It could be." Damon frowned. "Some guy just like that could walk up with a knife or gun and hurt you before you have time to realize what is happening. Shouldn't you have security?"

"I do sometimes." Elena shrugged. "Like for events and things when people know I'm scheduled to be there, but other than that, not much. This is New York. I have lived here my whole life. We New Yorkers can't be bothered."

Damon gave her one more sceptical look before nodding and opening the hotel door for her.

"Now why are we here and what is for lunch?" Elena sat in the seat he pulled out for her at the table. "I'm starving."

"Ah, my horse is back." He pulled his chair closer to hers. Closer than the other chairs were to one another. "I have no idea what is on the menu. I only know I get to have lunch with you, and I love this speaker and this cause."

"There is a cause?"

His shoulder was within leaning distance, but Elena resisted. She should be careful. She had just gotten out of a very public relationship with Matt. One the media was still speculating over. It would take only one picture of her cuddled up with Damon for them to speculate that she was cheating on Matt. That she had moved on too fast. That she was taking advantage of Damon. Who knew what they would say?

Well, Elena did because they had said it all before.

"Yeah, there is always a cause." Damon took a sip of water and looked around the ballroom set in rounds of eight or so. The white tablecloths contrasted with the bright floral centrepieces. The baskets of bread at the centre of each table drew her eyes and her appetite.

"Bread," she growled. She reached for a roll, but dropped her hand back to her side, thinking better of it.

"Thought you were starving." Damon reached for a roll and buttered it.

"I will wait for protein." Elena sipped her water, hoping it would douse the growl a little until the food arrived. "I have that shoot tomorrow."

"Oh, the naked one." His voice was neutral, but his lips went tight.

"Not naked." She leaned into him for a second. "Remember the panties."

He relinquished a small smile, but still didn't look pleased.

"Does it bother you that I model in skimpy stuff, and sometimes…" she left that sentence hanging, but he picked it up.

"And sometimes in nothing?" Damon set his water down before looking at her. "I don't have any right to be bothered, do I?"

No, he didn't, but it felt like he did. Elena didn't know how he managed to make everything felt so intimate and new and familiar. Like an adventure she was having for the first time with someone she had known forever, but just met.

"I just wondered…well, you seemed bothered when Barry mentioned Playboy."

"Why did you do it?" His voice and eyes held no judgment. Just genuine curiosity.

"Really, I think I had something to prove." A low laugh slipped out. "I think I wanted to prove that I still had…whatever I was supposed to be losing. I was in the best shape of my life in an industry that ruthlessly judges you by that shit."

Before Damon could reply, a few other people joined them at their table. A couple of them did double takes when they realized who she was. Elena smiled and shook their hands when Damon introduced her. She was too preoccupied with the salmon on the plate set in front of her to wonder what they were thinking about Damon's bringing her.

"I'm so excited to finally meet Halima," the woman Damon introduced as Isabelle said. "But you see her all the time, don't you, Damon?"

"Some." Damon chewed the steak he opted for before speaking. "She lives in London now. I actually saw her more when she lived in Gambia."

"What a treat to have her here in the States," Isabelle's husband, Frank, said. "And while you are in New York."

"And is this your first Restore event, Miss Gilbert?" Isabelle asked, her eyes toggling between Damon and Elena.

"It is." Elena took a sip of her water, hoping she could disguise how ignorant she was about Restore and Halima, whoever she was, and Gambia in general. "I'm looking forward to it."

She frowned at Damon for throwing her in blind. He mouthed "Sorry," but went on eating. Elena was finishing her fish when a young woman, dressed well but simply, took the podium.

"Thank you all for attending our monthly Restore luncheon." She licked her lips, Elena's only clue that the overflowing crowd might make her a bit nervous. "There are so many of you here today, and I think I know why."

She glanced back at a woman seated behind her onstage. The woman had the most gorgeous skin Elena might have ever seen, the colour of dark cocoa, not a blemish in sight. Her hair was cropped close to her head, leaving her stark bone structure prominent. She was slim and dressed even more simply than the girl at the podium. The shift dress she wore was bright orange and contrasts beautifully with her dark skin. Her smile as she returned to the speaker made her face glow.

"We are so pleased to have our guest with us today," the woman continued. "Her story, her courage, and her ongoing fight against FGM have inspired us all. She inspires thousands every year, and we are honoured to hear her today. Please welcome to the stage Halima Mendy."

While Elena was still using context clues to try to figure out what FGM was, everyone else applauded as Halima took the stage. She received a warm welcome and offered an even warmer smile.

"Greetings, all." Her soft voice, thickly accented, hushed the crowd. "I am honoured to be here with you today. Thank you, Lisa, for that lovely introduction. Many of you have heard my story, but many have not, so I will ask those who have to bear with me. Your story is your most powerful weapon. We must use our hurts to help, and so I tell my story every chance I get. Every time I do, I raise a fist against my oppressors."

Elena was unprepared for her passion. She was soft-spoken, but her eyes gleamed with the truth of her words. Even standing still, arms at her side, she had the look of a warrior.

"I was ten when they woke me before the sun was up," she continued, her eyes roving the crowd. "Me, my sisters, my cousins, girls from my village, all taken before daylight. One by one, we were held down, our legs spread, and we were cut. I have no words for the pain. I have never borne children, maybe I never will, but I am told this pain of female genital mutilation is greater than that. They cut away our pleasure and exchanged it for pain, for infection, for trouble that will follow many of us for the rest of our lives."

Her dark eyes scanned the crowd. Elena didn't know what she was searching for, but for some reason when she reached hers, it was like she found it. Her eyes held and locked with hers. And somehow Elena knew it had nothing to do with the fact that she probably recognized her face. It was that she recognized her. Connected with something inside of her. She didn't understand it, but she knew it.

"I tell this story all over the world, but the one place I can never tell it is in my village in Gambia. My family has disowned me. If I ever go back, I will surely die for telling the truth about how our girls, not just in Gambia, but in Egypt, all over Africa, all over the world, are being abused, even right here in America."

Her mouth tightened as her fists balled at her sides.

"Yes, FMG is on the rise here in America. Vacation cutting is on the rise as those who have immigrated here send their young girls home to be cut, and they come back forever changed."

Elena was stunned by the facts she shared over the next half hour. Shocked that she never knew this was happening. Mostly she was unsettled by her words.

 _Your story is your most powerful weapon. We must use our hurts to help._

Elena closed her eyes against the images flooding her mind. Liam's smug face, Shaunti Miller's frightened eyes. Memories from that night ten years ago that she had stuffed into a dark corner in the back of her mind, but Aaron's words from this morning and Halima's words now tugged and pulled at those memories until they were spread out before her, not dusty and wrinkled, but fresh and crisp like they happened only yesterday.

"Elena." Damon spoke into her ear as everyone else applauded the end of Halima's speech. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

Elena turned her eyes to him, meeting his concern finally with an honest answer.

"No." She shook her head and blinked at the tears she had been keeping at bay since last night. "I'm not."

"Let's get out of here." He gathered her things and was pulling her chair away from the table when he was stopped by a hand on his sleeve.

"Damon, you are going?" Halima asked, her smile warm and familiar. "I saw you about to leave and made my way over here quickly. It has been too long, my friend."

Damon reached down to hug her, his hands on her shoulders and a smile on his face.

"I was planning to call so we could see each other before you leave," he said.

"Where is Andie? I have been meaning to call you both." Halima's eyes drifted to Elena, standing close to Damon. "Oh. I'm sorry. I…"

 _Who the hell is Andie?_ Elena wondered.

Confusion clouded Halima's features for a moment, but she recovered, extending her hand to Elena.

"I'm sorry. How rude." She took Elena's hand, pressing it between hers. "I'm Halima."

"Hi, I'm—"

"Oh, Miss Gilbert, I know who you are." Her smile somehow set her rattled nerves a little more at ease. "One of the most beautiful women in the world. Even I know that."

"Thank you." Elena squeezed her hand back, looking directly into her dark, kind eyes. "What you said, your words, they…they moved me deeply."

"I could tell this." Halima's smile melted until her mouth was just a gentle curve. "When you speak as much as I do, you always know who is with you, and you, Miss Gilbert, were with me."

Elena wanted to ask how she knew that. She wanted to ask her how she learned to fight. She wanted to ask her if telling her story, making it a weapon, was truly worth what it cost her, because she had a story she thought she had to tell.

And it could cost her everything.

Before Elena could unload any of those questions on her, Lisa, the young woman who introduced Halima, appeared.

"Halima, so sorry, but we need to go." She gave Damon a smile. "Mr Salvatore, always good to see you. Thank you for your continued support."

"Of course. I wouldn't miss Halima for the world." He bent to kiss Halima's cheek. "But now we have to go, too."

"I leave for Los Angeles tomorrow," Halima said. "But I am back in New York in a few weeks before I return to London."

"Maybe breakfast?" Damon handed Elena her things and rested his hand at her back, a reassuring pressure that drew Halima's eyes and smile.

"Yes, I can see we have much to catch up on. Much has changed since we last spoke."

Damon grinned, pulling Elena an inch closer.

"Yes, much has changed." He nodded to Lisa, who was beginning to look impatient. "I think you have to go, and so do we. We will talk when you are back in the city."

Damon led Elena out of the crowded ballroom and down the hall until they were in the corridor for the bathrooms. He set her against the wall, facing her and clasping their hands together between them, taking her eyes hostage. She couldn't help but think back to the first night they met. He found her hiding from Liam Davis in a corridor similar to this one. She didn't think she could hide anymore.

"Liam Davis raped me ten years ago." The words came out with no aplomb. No drama. Elena said them as matter-of-factly as if Liam had stolen a parking space at the grocery store instead of what he actually took. Her virginity. Her dignity. Her voice.

She didn't know what she expected to find on Damon's face—shock, anger, outrage. His face was stone—emotionless, prepared.

"I know." He cupped her face with one large hand, his touch so tender she couldn't resist leaning into it. "Or at least I suspected."

Elena nodded, not surprised that he was not surprised.

"Is that why you brought me here?" Her bitter laugh joined them in the quiet corridor. "To convince me I should tell my story?"

"I brought you here so you would see that it is okay to tell your story. So you could see what it looks like to tell the truth when it is dangerous and hard."

"I don't want to do this." Elena shook her head, the air rushing up her chest in jagged puffs. "I'm stepping into the middle of a huge scandal. They will eat me alive, Damon. Who are they going to believe? The political favourite of the moment, with his sweet wife and two kids, or me? The woman who had an affair with a married man and posed for Playboy? And more. So much more."

She couldn't even meet his eyes when she thought of all the things Liam's camp would trot out about her. Not lies. The truth. The ugly truth of her reckless behaviour and decisions over the years. Damon tipped her chin until she couldn't look anywhere but at him.

"I believe you. Shaunti Miller will believe you. People will listen. Halima said your story is a weapon, and you are going after Liam Davis with guns blazing."

He slipped both arms around her waist, pulling her into him until her head rested on his shoulder.

"And I will be right there with you."

Maybe that scared Elena the most. That when she fought Liam Davis, she wouldn't be the only one with weapons. If her story was her weapon, her past was Liam's ammunition. He wouldn't hesitate to use it against her to save the life he had built and his promising future. And the thought that Damon would be right there for all of it, witnessing the dirt and grime of her past, that thought scared her maybe most of all.

"Want to go back to your place?" he asked. "We could order something, or I could cook."

He paused, and she could practically hear him choosing his next words carefully.

"Maybe you can tell me what happened." He pulled back to study her face. "And we can talk about what your next steps need to be."

"I want to talk to my mother before I go any further."

"And your father?" His voice softened. "I mean, I know he is not exactly father of the year, but if he knew that Liam—"

"He already knows." Elena swallowed the lump that had been growing in her throat since Halima took the stage.

"What the hell do you mean he knows?" Damon grabbed her shoulders, dipping his head until they were almost nose to nose. "He can't know, Elena. He is still dealing with him. Still courting him for Augustine."

"Damon, I told him." Shame and disappointment thickened the words in her mouth. "He…he doesn't believe me, or he tells himself that so he can stick to his plan."

"Unbelievable." Anger burnt in his eyes. "What kind of man is he? To take that piece of shit's word over his own daughter's?"

"Don't." Tears burnt her eyes and her throat swelled with familiar hurt hearing him said aloud what she had wondered time and time again since she confronted her father about Liam. "I'm used to it. It is just…him. Can we leave? Just go to my place?"

Elena mustered a grin and tugged on his lapel.

"And you can cook something good for me later."

Damon bent until he could whisper in her ear.

"I could get used to taking care of you."

She worked against the smile that forced its way to her lips, but she couldn't resist it. She couldn't resist him. She was not sure why she ever even tried. _Who resists something this good?_ Elena thought.

"It has been a long time since anyone took care of me."

The smile she couldn't resist faded as the reality of her situation hit her. She was not sure that once she exposed Liam Davis for the douche bag rapist prick that he was, anyone would be able to take care of her, to protect her. For the first time, she might not even be able to take care of herself.


	18. Chapter 18

Elena stepped off the elevator into the lobby of her apartment building the next morning like it was a normal day. Like she was not setting into motion a series of events that could prove catastrophic for her. Like every other morning, Baker idled outside her building, waiting for her to start her commute to the office. Only this morning, she had a small detour.

"Baker, could we run by my parents' house first?" Elena set her slouchy leather purse and a bag of samples for Retreat on the backseat beside her. "Do you know if my mother has plans this morning? Besides her usual, I mean."

Miranda Gilbert was a woman of routine. Every morning she had her breakfast at nine o'clock sharp. Some variation of omelette, grapefruit, her Columbian coffee. Never in her robe or pyjamas. Always dressed for the day, hair in place.

Her parents had strange relationship. Elena didn't see love between them, but something almost as strong connected them together. She was not sure what that was exactly, but it had kept her mother tethered to her father through infidelities, neglect, and downright indifference. Her mother was a mystery wrapped up in another mystery. She had always wondered why her mother stayed and why she turned a blind eye.

Her phone buzzed from her bag, pulling her from the enigma that was her parents' marriage. In spite of the difficult conversation ahead, and the even more difficult days ahead once she went public with her story, she smiled as soon as she saw "Damon" on her screen.

"Hey, you." Elena leaned back in the heated seat, bracing herself for that warm Southern drawl.

"Hey yourself." She heard a smile in that deep-timbered voice. "On your way to the office?"

"Not quite yet." She passed a hand over her face, agitation returning full force. "I'm going to see my mother first."

"To tell her everything?"

Elena wanted to tell Damon no one ever got everything with her, but she didn't. It was easier to hide her secrets when people thought she was baring them all. They didn't dig as deeply or as hard. Some things would follow her to the grave, and with those secrets as her final bedfellows, she had no illusion that she would rest in peace.

"Yes. I will tell her what happened with Liam, if my father hasn't already." She shrugged even though he couldn't see her. "We aren't besties or anything, but she is still my mother. I want her to know her daughter was…"

Elena trailed off, checking the rear-view mirror to see if Baker was paying attention. Of course he was. That was what he did. Blended into the walls and furniture so that she could talk freely. He was a collector of secrets, even the ones he didn't want.

"I just don't want her hearing anything on CNN she hasn't already heard from me," she concluded.

"Makes sense." Though only a few seconds, she heard his hesitation. "Look, about yesterday. I shouldn't have ambushed you with Halima and her story. This is a huge decision, and I never want you to think I would manipulate you into anything."

"Damon, I don't." She dropped her voice to a whisper, an intimate breath between them across the airwaves. "I needed that. You have a way of inspiring me, and I like it. And thank you for last night, by the way."

"Oh, you mean cheap Chinese food and the documentary on the fight for women's rights in Kenya? The one you fell asleep watching?"

"I had a long day!"

"I fell asleep, too." His chuckle wrapped around her, warming her more than the leather seat at her back. "It is okay."

"What I was actually thanking you for was not pressuring me to talk about…things last night."

Elena knew that if she was going public with this, she would have to get used to resurrecting the details of that night, but she was not ready to do that with Damon. There was some small part of her that was afraid he ultimately wouldn't believe her. Her own father didn't. On some level, she didn't expect more from her father. He was a ruthless, self-centred bastard. Always had been. Damon had raised her expectations beyond what they had been with anyone else. The advantage of not expecting was never being disappointed. Over the last few weeks, Damon had shown her what it felt like to expect.

"You will talk to me about it when you are ready." Damon's voice softened like there could be someone listening. "Can I see you tonight?"

"We have seen each other every night." A smile lifted the corners of her mouth and heart. "Aren't you tired of me yet?"

"No."

Just that. Elena was not tired of him yet, either. As a matter of fact, she was hungrier every day. Not just for him in her bed, but just…him. Being around him. Laughing with him. Learning things from him.

"I would love to see you tonight, too, Damon."

"You want to try going out again?"

"What if this is our third strike?"

"I'm not out, that is for sure, strikes or not." Elena could imagine the grin on his face that she heard in his voice, and it made her grin in return.

"Maybe you should." Her grin started fading, and she wondered if he heard that in her voice, too. "Get out, I mean."

"What are you talking about, Elena?"

She had weighted the conversation with her words, but it needed to be said. And as selfish as she was, as she had been, and as much as she wanted to keep doing what they were doing—she wanted to do more—she had to say it.

"Things could get really ugly, Damon. We could stop now before—"

"Is that who you think I am?" Irritation tightened his voice. "We haven't known each other long, Elena, but I thought you knew me better than that. I'm not abandoning you because things might get tough."

"And messy." Elena gulped back her fear. "There are things you don't know about me."

"And there are things that I do. I know you are brave, and despite your father's efforts, compassionate."

"That is not funny," she said, a giggle slipping from her lips.

"I know that you are beautiful." His voice dipped, the sensual pull from the other line tugging on her senses, luring her into him even over the phone. "And that I can't be in the same room without touching you. I know I want to kiss you all the time and that I can't stop thinking about you."

 _What do I say to that? Do I confess that I feel the same?_ Elena thought. Only her thoughts went far past kissing. Her thoughts went so far that she woke up sweating and twisting in the sheets for him, reaching for her vibrator, but she didn't even try because she knew it wouldn't be thick enough, long enough. I know it wouldn't go deep enough. She knew it wouldn't be him.

"Elena?"

"I'm here." Elena cleared her throat, sitting up straight and smiling at Baker, standing in the door to help her down. "I…um…I'm at my mom's."

"Okay." Humour and desire lingered in his voice. "I vote that we stay in tonight so I can kiss you."

"Is that as far as we are going to go?" She stepped out of the car, flashing Baker a quick smile as she walked into her parents' Park Avenue home. "Don't get my hopes up, Damon."

Her voice teased him, but he knew she was serious. She was ready when he was, and he knew it.

"Your hopes won't be the only thing 'up,' Elena, but tonight is not our night."

A chuckle percolated in her throat before spilling over, a rich sound only he could pull from her on the cusp of a conversation like the one she was about to have with her mother.

"And you maintain that we will both know when it is right?" Elena rang the bell even though she still had a key. Her mother didn't much like surprises, so she would give her at least the warning of the bell.

"Yeah, I think we will." Damon paused, his voice more serious with his next words. "And I think we are close."

He was saying two things, and she heard them both between the lines of what he was actually saying. Yes, they were closer than they had been to having sex. But he was also saying they were close. It was exactly the word Elena thought of when she considered what they were doing, what they were becoming. They were becoming close. She was letting him in, and she was starting to understand that was what he wanted. He didn't want one intimacy without the other.

The door swung open, cutting off the things she wanted to say to deepen this feeling between them, even over the phone.

"I got to go." She walked past her housekeeper, Millie, into the foyer with its black and white tiles.

"You will call me when you are done?" Concern crept into his voice. "As soon as you are done?"

"Damon, I know how busy you are—"

"As soon as, Elena."

Elena smiled. "Okay, as soon as."

"That's my girl."

Damon had no idea how good that sounded to her. What would it feel like to be his girl? To have all that care and sweetness and passion and fire aimed exclusively at her? She was the one resisting this, but now she wanted to lean into it so badly. This connection with Damon was the silver lining in a very shitty cloud. She wanted to protect it from everyone who would question it, who would cheapen it, who would destroy it. The need to protect this connection raised so fiercely inside her that for a moment it stole her breath.

Elena walked deeper into the house and peered into the dining room, where her mother was already seated and eating her omelette. She dropped her phone into her purse and walked in.

"Morning, Mum."

Miranda looked up from her grapefruit, a frown worrying her brows.

"Elena, did I forget we had an appointment?"

Not exactly how Elena wanted to start.

"It is good to see you, too." She sat down across from her mother at the dining room table that seated ten, but usually held only one for breakfast. Her mother preferred it that way, but she would just have to put up with her for a little while today.

"Elena, I'm not saying it isn't good to see you." That forced patience Elena had seen all her life entered her mother's voice, settled on her face. "What can I do for you, sweetheart?"

They had never been close, and Elena regretted that now more than she ever had. Her mother was always beautiful and aloof, a maze of walls she could never figure out how to negotiate or scale to get on the other side. To get to her.

"Mum, I need to talk to you about some things that will be coming out soon." Elena shook her head when Millie gestured at the empty plate in front of her. "No, thank you, though, Millie."

She waited for Millie to leave the room before continuing.

"Things about …an incident from the past."

"Surely not Klaus Mikaelson again. I heard he is in New York." Miranda rolled her eyes. "Elena, please leave that woman's husband alone."

The serrated spoon Miranda dug into the soft, pink flesh of her grapefruit might as well be plunging into Elena's heart. That was how her comment felt. That was how it hurt. When that scandal broke Elena was barely twenty years old, and her mother had nothing but chiding for her. No guidance. No comfort. Only criticism and censure.

"I want nothing to do with Klaus Mikaelson." Elena's voice bounced off the walls of this cold room. "That is not what I'm talking about, though it will probably come back up."

"Elena, dear, as much as I wish we had more of these little heart-to-hearts"—Miranda glanced at the diamond watch on her wrist—"I have a ten o'clock."

Her mother was lying. Baker drove them all. He would have arranged another car for her commute if her mother had a ten o'clock appointment. He would have mentioned it. He would have known.

Her mother wanted to get rid of her. She wondered if her face disappointed her mother. If her actions, her life in most ways, had disappointed her mother. The chasm between them felt so deep and wide, Elena was not sure her words would even reach her across it, but she had to try.

"Mum, ten years ago something happened that I never told you about, and it is about to come out."

Miranda went still, her pointy-tipped spoon hovering over her grapefruit. She placed the spoon down, pushed her plate away, and sat back in her seat, eyes fixed on Elena.

"Go on."

Elena drew up enough breath to force the words out. Words she thought she would take with her to her grave.

"Liam Davis raped me."

She looked up when there was not so much as a gasp. No sound, just those brown eyes looking back at her unblinkingly.

"Did you hear me, Mum? Liam—"

"I'm sure you are mistaken, dear."

Shock and disbelief dragged her jaw down and open.

"Mistaken?" Something Elena couldn't even call a laugh, it was so humourless, barged past her lips. "It is hard to be mistaken about a man forcing you to have sex, Mum."

"Elena, I'm just saying that things get out of hand. People take things the wrong way."

"Exactly how was I supposed to take sexual assault?"

"This was ten years ago, so why are you just now coming forward? Why didn't you tell us then?"

Elena dragged her mind back to that night. To Liam dropping her off at the house like everything was normal. Like her wrists weren't ringed red from his belt wrapped around them. Like her breasts weren't on fire with marks from his teeth. Like she wasn't limping from the pain between her legs.

She had felt filthy, and as soon as the door closed, she had raced up the stairs to shower. She was a cliché, the victim huddled under a stinging spray of water that couldn't reach the parts that felt most unclean. She had wept against the shower wall until her voice withered in her throat, and all she had left were whimpers and moans. She didn't know how long she sat on her bed in her robe, catatonic, but eventually she knew she needed to tell her parents what had happened. She shuffled up the hall to their suite, but stopped at the door.

"You and Daddy were fighting."

"What?" Miranda allowed herself a small frown, not a deep one, because too much expression wrinkled skin.

"You and Daddy were arguing when I came home. I heard you, and I just didn't."

"So you didn't tell us you were raped because you heard us arguing?" Her face was sceptical, her voice condescending. "What were we arguing about? What was so important that you couldn't interrupt to tell us something like this?"

"I don't…I don't remember." Her memory dredged up their raised voices; the anger and urgency of that argument, but no details. So many things about that night had hidden from her in the shadows of her subconscious.

"Now, Elena, does that make sense to you?"

Elena couldn't explain to her mother that she always felt like an intrusion in their lives, like they weren't sure what to do with her now that they had her. Like they were just biding their time until she was gone. And that night, when she needed them more than anything, when she scrounged up the courage to go to them, she couldn't make herself intrude. Couldn't interrupt. Maybe she thought they wouldn't believe her. It was probably because she thought they wouldn't care.

As their eyes locked across the table, Elena realized for the first time that her mother was not an ally; she knew that she was right on both counts. This wasn't normal. A daughter told her mother she was raped, and there should be tears. There should be hugs. There should at least be questions, but her mother acted like she already had all the answers.

"You knew."

Nothing on Miranda's face gave her away, but she blinked twice, a quick succession of reflexes. The only uncontrolled things about her.

"Elena, listen to me."

"Daddy told you." Hurt climbed the walls of Elena's belly, scaling her insides until it swelled in her throat. "You have known for weeks and never even asked me about it."

"Your father did mention that you were confused about some events from the past with Liam, yes."

"And you didn't even call me?" Elena's voice raised, cracking the serenity her mother cultivated in this room for her morning meal. "You didn't even check to see if I'm okay? Or to hear my side of the story?"

"Elena, things have been so hectic with the ballet and opera fund-raisers, and—"

"Just stop." Elena blinked until the tears receded. "Don't pretend this is normal. That we are normal. We are not typical. This isn't right."

"Elena, Liam is a very powerful man, and you know he and your father have extremely important dealings right now."

"Liam Davis is a rapist, and I'm not the only woman he has done this to."

"But you are the only one who is talking about it, aren't you?" All civility dropped away, and Elena realised her mother was angry with her.

"Be straight with me, Mum." Elena bounced her stony expression right back at Miranda. "What is going on?"

"Whatever happened ten years ago is long over, Elena, but what your father and Liam are working on is right now. It may be the most important thing he has done. It is crucial to our future."

What the hell was going on? Elena propped her elbows on the table, dropping her forehead into her hands, trying to wrap her mind around this insanity.

"We can get you some help, a counsellor, or—"

"I had help." Elena sat back in her seat and crossed her legs. "I saw a therapist for two years after it happened."

"A therapist?" Her forehead pinched. "Who was this therapist? Where?"

"In Milan. I started seeing her while I was in Milan. She specialized in helping rape survivors."

"Elena, you have to stop saying 'rape.' And you need to drop this. Boys lose their heads. Girls lead boys on. It's what happens in high school, but we can't afford to dredge up ancient history right now. I'm sure Liam is sorry for what happened."

"Is that why he raped another woman? Because he was so sorry after the first time?" Elena leaned forward, trapping her mother's eyes with her own, refusing to let her go. "He raped Shaunti Miller, too, Mum. And there is no telling who else."

"There is no telling because no one is telling, Elena." Miranda leaned into their stare, her eyes hard and glinting. "And neither will you."

"You are crazy." Elena stood, bumping the back of her knees on the chair in her haste to get out of this house of horrors. She grabbed her bag and headed towards the door.

"Elena, this will be a circus, and you will be the freak show." Miranda picked up her serrated spoon and went back to her grapefruit. "Not Liam."

Elena was almost at the door when she turned to look back at the woman she had longed to be close to all her life, but never found a way.

"I thought it was me." Elena shook her head, the breath bitter on her lips. "I thought I was broken, too much like Daddy for you to love me."

"Oh, God. Spare me the melodrama, Elena." Miranda sprinkled Stevia on her grapefruit.

"But it is you. You are the broken one." Elena's lip quivered, but she got it under control. She wouldn't give this woman any more weakness to use against her. "You are just like him."

"And so are you, little girl." Miranda's eyes blazed in a face otherwise cold. "Don't get on a high horse now. Don't fool yourself that you are any different from us."

"Oh, I am different, Mum. I have learned that I have the capacity to actually care about other people, a secret I probably kept from myself to survive life with the two of you."

"You may have just started caring about people, Elena, but no one cares about you. You are just a famous face and an overexposed body." Miranda sliced into her omelette, raising her fork to her mouth and her eyes to her.

"You have spent the last ten years being one thing. Don't expect people to all of a sudden think you are something else. Start telling this story about Liam if you want. It will be a bloodbath."

"Oh, I have no doubt there will be blood, Mum, but it won't be just mine. I'm going to bleed Liam dry, and since you seem to be on his side, you might bleed, too."

Elena rushed past Millie, hovering with her teapot, through the foyer with the sweeping staircase that led to her childhood bedroom. She pulled at the heavy door, letting in the light from outside. The fresh autumn air did nothing to clear her head, nothing to soothe her soul. She stumbled into the backseat of the car waiting at the curb, tears stinging her eyes.

"Everything all right, Miss G?" Baker asked from the front seat, his eyes seeking hers in the rear-view mirror.

"Yes, I…" She didn't know what lie she could come up with to cover this wound in her heart, bleeding out her illusions, an unstoppable flow, black with hurt and rejection.

Her mother didn't care that a man raped her daughter. She offered no words of comfort. No horror that she never knew. Elena caught Baker's glance again in the rear-view mirror, unsure what to say or how to explain that her mother didn't love her, but his waiting eyes were soft with sympathy.

And she realized he knew. He had always known.


	19. Chapter 19

Damon had always enjoyed training alone. Things that made no sense in a room full of people, in a world filled with noise, crystallize in solitude. A way that seemed uncertain became straight as he was pushing himself through water, meeting its resistance with his persistence, its force with his strength. On a morning like this with so many problems—the Collective scandal, the Mystic Corp sale, Elena's revelation about that douche bag Liam Davis—it would be ideal to be alone. But as he touched the wall, coming out of the water to find Elena already seated on its edge in her black bikini, her hair water-darkened, her lashes spiky, somehow he was okay with not being by himself this morning.

"You cheated." Damon folded his arms on the side of the pool and matched her grin. "There is no way you beat me."

"Why?" It was good to see those brown doe eyes, so sober yesterday after her meeting with her mother, smiling back at him. "Because I'm a girl?"

"No, because while you are doing your squats and pliés or whatever the hell they are at the barre every morning, I'm here swimming. This is my thing."

"And since I beat you at your thing, you automatically conclude I must have cheated?" Elena leaned back, arms straight and palms pressed to the concrete behind her. "That's some ego you have got there, Damon Salvatore. I beat you fair and square."

"How?" Damon was too competitive not to frown. "I'm stronger."

"I'm faster." She sat forward to poke his shoulder. "And have less bulk."

"Bulk?" A laugh sputtered on his lips. "Is that what I have?"

"Just saying maybe some of that muscle slowed you down in the water." She shrugged and pointed to herself. "Also, swimming scholarship."

"You were on the swim team?"

"And the rowing team. Two state championships." Her husky laugh bounced off the walls of the otherwise empty room. "The coach from UCLA? You should have seen his face when he realized he had offered a scholarship to the daughter of Grayson Gilbert."

Elena kicked her feet in the water.

"I actually loved that he didn't realize who I was, and that I got that offer on the merits of what he had seen me do."

Damon floated into the canal between those long, slim legs, sliding his palms down her slippery calves.

"So you are saying you didn't cheat?"

Her lips, full and free of lipstick, tweaked at the edges. She pressed them against the laugher he saw bubbling in her eyes. Finally, she flung her head back, howling with a laugh that came from some part of herself she was quarantining from all the drama unfolding in her life.

"You little cheat!"

Damon dragged her by her ankles until she was at the lip of the pool, and then leaned into her stomach, hauling her over his shoulder and wading back into the water.

"No! Damon, no!" She beat his back with her fists, her laugh vibrating through his skin.

"You better hold your breath," he warned her.

"No, I…you…Damon, don't you—"

Damon took them under, the water closing over their heads, sealing out the world above. He wished they had fins so they could stay under for hours, just the two of them, breathing in the underwater utopia. Peaceful, as if a garish spotlight wasn't about to turn on Elena's every move. On her past. Their heads broke the water's surface at the same time, both of them coming up gasping and laughing. Their eyes caught and held until the air between them shifted, and even the cold water couldn't dampen the heat flaring between their eyes, between their bodies.

Damon found her in the water, sliding his hands over her hips to caress her thighs. A breath separated her lips as her hands climbed his chest and slipped into his hair. There was no one else here, but if there were, he would have to say get lost. This woman had had him tied in knots since she stared him down from a billboard, her face bare and her soul cloaked. And the more of herself she showed him, the more he wanted.

He plunged into her mouth, a treasure seeker. There was a moan, his or hers, he couldn't tell, because he was so busy making it happen again. Pressing into her, his hands lapping like water at her thighs, at her back, at her ass. She was so much of everything he wanted.

His hands slipped under her bikini bra. He kneaded her breasts until her lashes dropped, her head fell back, and nails dug into his scalp. She reached around to unhook the bra so it fell away. Damon went down on his knees in the water, pressing his mouth to her breasts, nuzzling and suckling, pulling hard on her with his desperation to get as much as he could.

"Damon, we should stop." Her words reached him on a ragged breath.

Elena was right. Anyone could come in, but his control was barrelling downhill with no brakes. Hands gripping her butt, fingers sliding under the fabric of her suit until it was skin on skin. Tongue licking under the full curve of her breasts. Her skin, cool. His mouth, hot against her.

Damon didn't want to stop, but he did when a noise caught his attention, the door opening. He was instantly up and clutching her to his chest to cover her. He caught sight of her black bikini top floating just out of reach.

"Stay still, Elena. Don't move, sweetheart." His voice was hoarse, and in his head he was cursing himself for exposing her like this.

"Um, Damon?" Enzo asked from poolside. "You might want to…"

"Got it," Damon snapped, not bothering to look at Enzo before he darted back out the way he came.

Her head dropped to his chest, the deep breath she drew brushing her nipples against him.

That was not helping.

"That dude is such a cock blocker," Elena whispered.

They both laughed, loosening the passion that held them so tight moments before.

"I'm sorry." Damon pulled back just enough to study her face. "I shouldn't have let it go that far in here."

Elena was not even blushing, the minx. She grinned wide, pulling all the way back until she floated out of his arms. She faced Damon, topless for a moment, her nipples high and tight, before letting go of a lusty laugh, plunging underwater, and swimming over to retrieve her bikini top.

Damon ran his hands over his hair and face, grappling for control and composure, when really he just wanted to take Elena under and make love to her on the pool floor. They might both drown, but what a way to go.

"For the record," she said, hauling herself to the lip of the pool, giving him a great view of the round, firm cheeks not completely covered by her bikini. "I did beat you fair and square."

She sat on the edge, long legs floating in the water. He swam over to stand in front of her, and they were back where they started, only he was a lot harder now.

"I'm not sure I can trust you," Damon said, cocking a brow.

Her smile faded until she was biting her bottom lip, lashes down to cover her eyes.

"You can."

He leaned forward, lifting her chin with a finger until he had her eyes again.

"Goes both ways," Damon said. "You can trust me, too."

Elena still hadn't told him what happened with her mother, but Damon knew it wasn't good. When she didn't call him, he called her. He could tell immediately that things had gone badly, but he didn't press. All through dinner at her apartment last night, he didn't press. And he wouldn't. He had to believe she would trust him. Is that what I'm actually waiting for? He wondered. Looking for before we take this thing to the next level?

"I know I can trust you." Elena bent to trail her fingers through the water.

"I want to be there for you, Elena." Damon caught her hand in the water and held her eyes. "Let me."

"Okay." She nodded, licking her bottom lip before looking at him squarely. "Will you come with me tomorrow to talk to Shaunti Miller's lawyer?"

"Yes." He was flying to South Africa tomorrow, and he didn't even know what time this meeting would happen. He would rearrange the flight if he had to. "What time?"

"It is at ten o'clock tomorrow morning, but if you can't make it—"

"I can." Damon reached up to brush his thumb across her soft lips, brushing away any more protests. "I will."

Elena smiled, turning her head to kiss his palm.

"I do have a flight to catch." He dropped their hands, clasped, to her knee. "But it is not until evening, I think."

She didn't shutter her expression quickly enough to hide her disappointment.

"The Collective meeting in South Africa?"

"Yeah." He released a heavy breath. "Unfortunately."

"How long will you be gone?"

"We leave tomorrow, and come back sometime late next week."

She nodded, eyes on the water.

"Hey." Damon tipped up her chin until she couldn't look away. "I will miss you while I'm gone."

Her smile was his reward, and despite the embers, still hot from their last kiss, he initiated another one. This one softer and slower, but still telling her that he couldn't wait much longer to have her. That he wanted to.

"Come out with me tonight," Damon whispered against her lips, still pressing soft kisses to her mouth.

"Are we really going to try that again?" Elena leaned down, her fingers wandering to the back of his neck, pressing him in to deepen a kiss.

He pulled back to answer her.

"Yeah. Come with me tonight."

She looked like she might turned him down, but Damon was not having it.

"Say yes. It is important to me." He didn't want to play this card, but he would to get her to come. "I'm being honoured, and I would love for you to be with me."

"You are being honoured?" Her eyes widened, a smile starting small and spreading over her mouth. "For what?"

"For my work with developing nations. Does it matter? I want you with me; now, are you coming or what?"

"Well I guess I am." Her smile melted, leaving concern behind. "And you are coming with me? Tomorrow, I mean?"

"I'm here for you, Elena. Nothing will shake me loose. Not lies or hearsay or scandal."

"What about the truth?" Her lips barely parted to let the words out. "When it is not lies, but it is the nasty truth about something stupid I did a decade ago. Would that shake you loose? Because I wouldn't blame you. Wouldn't think any less of you if you want to get out of this now before it goes too far."

Damon pulled her down from the lip of the pool, turning in the water and hooking her ankles behind him. He slipped his hands under her butt to keep her floating with him, around him.

"This thing between us, Elena." He dotted kisses across her lips, under her chin, and over the long column of her neck. "Not only has it already gone too far…"

He pulled back so Elena could see his eyes and know exactly what his next words meant to him.

"But I'm too far gone."

For a moment, Damon wondered if he had said too much, pushed too hard. But then Elena lifted those lashes, her brown eyes soft and settled on his. Her next words made him want her more, and made him so glad he waited to hear them.

"So am I, Damon."


	20. Chapter 20

Elena had no one to blame but herself for being in this position.

Technically, that was not true. As she stepped out of the car onto a freaking red carpet, to flashing bulbs and a receiving line of dignitaries, she realized she could also blame Damon.

"You didn't tell me it would be quite so…" Elena paused long enough to smile for a photographer practically contorting to get the right shot. "Public. Such a big deal."

"Did I not?" Damon squinted one eye as if trying to remember. "I told you it was formal."

"Yes, but there is a red carpet and lots of media, and I think I just spotted a prime minister."

"Maybe one or two." He shrugged, broad shoulders straining against his well-cut tuxedo jacket. "Not a big deal."

Elena glanced at Damon in a tuxedo. She must admit, they did make a striking couple. Him in his finery and she in the midnight blue dress François sent from his evening-wear line. It reached the floor and bared her back. She studied the other women here, and felt like she was a little too much. They were all wearing evening gowns, but hers seemed more glamorous, which wasn't a surprise, but she didn't want to stand out. She hadn't blended in one day of her life, but tonight, she would like to. It was Damon's night, not hers. And the last thing she wanted was to become the centre of—

"Elena, who are you wearing?" a photographer yelled from behind the rope.

 _It has begun…_ she thought.

"This dress was sent over by the fabulous François Gerrard."

Damon and Elena took a few more steps before another reporter tossed out a question.

"Where is Matt tonight, Elena?"

Damon was standing close enough for her to feel him tense at her side.

"I have no idea." Elena offered a smile so plastic it should be recycled.

"So are the reports true that you and Matt are no longer together?"

"Matt and I remain very good friends, and I wish him well." Before they could fire another question, probably about Damon, Elena continued. "Tonight is about my dear friend Mr Salvatore and this amazing event, and I want to keep it that way. Good night."

Another round of questions came, but Elena dismissed them with a quick wave and another plastic smile.

Damon wrapped one hand around her elbow and laid the other at her back, directing her into the Savoy and towards the ballroom, where the dinner was being held. Before they reached the room, already packed and buzzing with people, Elena pulled him into an empty hall to the side.

"Hey." She took both his hands, looking up to study the closed expression she had rarely seen on his face. "I'm sorry about that. It must have been awkward for you. They don't care about awkward."

"What was awkward," he said, reaching to brush the hair she left loose back over her shoulder, "was you calling me a dear friend."

Elena opened her mouth and then closed it, unsure how to respond.

"That's what has you bent out of shape?"

"I'm not bent out of shape."

She tilted her head, giving him a knowing look.

"Okay." His face relented a small grin. "I'm a little bent."

"You shouldn't be."

"Do you not want people to know we are together?"

"You shouldn't want people to know we are together, Damon." Elena dropped her eyes to the swirling pattern in the carpet. "Being with me…being seen with me…it draws the kind of attention I don't think you want."

"Elena, I know what being with you means." Damon left a kiss behind her ear. "It means lots of takeout food."

He dropped a kiss on her lips.

"Lots of cheating in the pool."

They laughed into the next kiss.

"And lots of blue balls."

Elena leaned back so he couldn't kiss her.

"That, Mr Salvatore, is on you." She slid her hand under his tuxedo jacket until her hand cupped his ass.

"I don't believe in blue balls." Her eyes matched the sultry heat of his. "Matter of fact, I am fundamentally opposed to them in a relationship."

"Oh, so we are in a relationship now?" Damon teased her with a grin, even though her heart fluttered at his words. Her breath catching at what she just said. At what he just asked her.

"If that is the case, maybe I'm against blue balls, too." His fingers splayed across the curve between her butt and her thigh. "Fundamentally."

Elena couldn't breathe. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest. _Is he saying…are we going to…is he…_ she couldn't stop asking herself.

Before she could ask, Rose rushed around the corner, eyes slightly panicked behind her glasses.

"Damon, here you are." Her eyes drifted to Elena and then snapped back to her boss. "Oh, Elena. I didn't realize you were coming tonight."

Rose didn't sound too pleased about it. _What's with her? Is it just my reputation?_ Elena thought. She gave Rose the benefit of the doubt the last time she was rude to her. Once more, and Rose would find that when people called Elena a bitch, it was justified.

Damon's hand moved slowly up to Elena's back and a frown settled on his face.

"What's up, Rose?"

"Um…I don't think…" Rose's eyes shifted to Elena again, hesitation on her face and in her voice.

"What's wrong?" Damon's frown deepened. "Just spit it out."

"Okay." Rose gave him a look that said you asked for it. "Andie is here."

"And that is a problem?" he asked.

"She is at our table." Rose's poor eyebrows looked like they might fight their way through her hairline if they went any higher. "Like, now, at our table."

"It is fine, Rose." He flicked his chin back towards the ballroom. "Go on back in. We are right behind you. Just give us a second."

As soon as Rose turned to leave, Elena asked the question that got lost in everything that had happened since the Restore luncheon they attended two days ago.

"Who is Andie?" Elena caressed the lapels of his tuxedo, eyes fixed on his bow tie. "Halima mentioned her the other day, too."

Damon glided his hands over her arms and down to rest on her hips before answering.

"We were engaged."

Elena's hands stilled over the lapels, and she lifted her eyes to his. He searched her face, the blue-grey eyes gauging her reaction to the words that just sucker-punched her in the gut. Damon was engaged to someone? There was a woman he wanted to marry? And she was here tonight? At their table?

"How long ago?" Her hands fell from his jacket to hang at her sides.

"We were engaged for about six months, and I broke it off almost a year ago."

Elena looked at him from under her lashes.

"You broke it off?" Damon nodded. "Why?"

He glanced back towards the ballroom, a small smile playing over his full lips, and shrugged.

"I guess we have got time for a little story."

Damon pushed his hands into his pockets, the jacket dragging back to display his broad chest and taut waist. Elena would not be distracted by how sexy he looked because right now, she wanted to know about the man in front of her.

"My mother moved to Lumberton, North Carolina, her freshman year in high school," he said. "Her father's job relocated them from Boston, and she was in my father's homeroom class. She was outspoken, well read, sharp, and hilarious. He fell hard for her, and he never looked back."

Damon's deep laugh and slow smile made her lips curve, too.

"Growing up, I saw my dad make a beeline for my mom every day after work." He shook his head, grinning wider. "For a while, he drove a truck to make some extra money. He would drive through the night to get home to her. We knew he loved us kids, but there was never any doubt that she was number one. He hated being away from her, and I don't think in forty years of marriage they have spent more than two nights apart."

"That is beautiful." Elena couldn't help but contrasted that to her parents' separate vacations and the marriage that was felt empty as a tomb most of her life.

"I thought so." Damon nodded, his smile fading. "So last year Andie had a special assignment in Ghana, and we didn't see each other for more than a month."

He dropped his eyes to the carpet, twisting his lips and shaking his head.

"I was fine without her. I mean, I missed her, but I didn't have to fight myself from jumping on a plane to be with her every day."

"So there was no passion?" Elena asked, trying to understand exactly what he was saying.

"The sex was great." He met her eyes unabashed, and Elena wanted to kick this girl Andie in the stomach, or maybe lower, in her lady parts, for having Damon when she hadn't. "It was more than passion. More than great sex. It wasn't…urgent. I know what that kind of love looks like, and I realized we didn't have it. As much perfect sense as Andie and I made on paper, we didn't have that, and I don't want to spend the rest of my life without it."

"So you broke it off?"

"I told her what I just told you—that although I cared about her, probably even felt some version of love, it wasn't what I needed to sustain a forever commitment. And that is what marriage is to me."

Elena hooked her fingers around his wrists, even though his hands were still plunged into his pockets.

"I know that was hard for you."

"It was the hardest thing I have ever done." He sighed, hands abandoning his pockets to take hold of hers. "But it was the right thing to do. It's not just that I wanted that. She deserves someone who feels that way about her. She is a remarkable woman. This isn't the first time we have seen each other since we broke up. We move in the same circles. Her boss, David, is in the Collective, and is being honoured tonight, too. I should have realized she would be here."

Damon bent his head a little to drop a quick kiss on her lips.

"But I have been a little distracted."

Elena mustered a smile, but she was not looking forward to meeting the "remarkable" woman who was perfect for Damon on paper and was this close to being his wife.

When they entered the ballroom and walked to their table, Elena hung behind just a little, wanting the advantage of even a few seconds to study Andie before she got to study her. She was glad she did, because she saw Andie's eyes fixed on Damon, unguarded at that first glance.

And she knew Andie was still in love with him.

Elena couldn't even resent Andie, or be angry with her. Her heart, that muscle that seemed to have found new life since she met Damon, actually ached a little for Andie. It would break any woman to lose a man like Damon.

 _It might even break me,_ Elena thought.

Andie stood as soon as she saw Damon, and Elena revised her preconceived notions of what this "perfect for Damon" woman would look like. She had envisioned a woman like Rose. Attractive in her own way. Bookish. Ordinary, with dashes of special here and there. This woman was no Rose. Beautiful women were as common as the cold in Elena's industry, but Andie was extraordinary even to her eyes. Incredibly long, thick lashes fringed eyes the colour of almond. Her face, with high, moulded cheekbones and flawless, latte-tinged skin, was arresting and framed by a cloud of honey-coloured hair. Her mouth, a tightly budded rose, opened up into a full-bloomed smile just for Damon.

"I was wondering when you would arrive." Andie grabbed his hands, leaning up on her tiptoes to reach his cheek and leave a kiss there. "Congratulations. I'm so excited for you."

More than anything Elena wanted to hate this woman, but she couldn't.

"Andie, good to see you, too." Damon pulled away from her hands and turned to Elena, his eyes checking her face, which she kept neutral.

Andie still didn't realize Damon and Elena were together, hadn't even noticed Elena, and Elena a hard woman to overlook. Andie was so focused on him, it made Elena sorry that she was here and that in some ways, she was about to shatter her world. She didn't mean to. It wouldn't be the first time Elena had stumbled into breaking another woman's heart.

"I'm here for a bit," Andie said. "Maybe we could grab a drink after this thing, or dinner before I fly back to London."

"I fly out to South Africa tomorrow," Damon said. "And I probably won't be back until late next week."

Andie's eyes widened, a quick grin on her lips.

"That's right. The Collective is meeting this week. David is going, too, of course."

Damon nodded and stepped back, reaching for Elena's hand.

"Andie, I'm being rude to my guest. I don't think you have met Elena Gilbert, have you?" He gave a gentle tug to Elena's hand, pulling her forward when she really just wanted to blend into the wall, maybe as a sconce or the wallpaper. "Elena, Andie Starr."

As soon as their eyes met, Elena knew Andie knew. Damon didn't just pull her forward. He looked at her, his eyes affectionate. His mouth widened into a smile as soon as their eyes connected. His hand went to her back, gentle and possessive. Elena felt his absolute full attention turned to her, and she knew Andie felt it, too. The natural smile withered on Andie's face. She blinked several times, pressing her lips together against the emotion Elena hoped wasn't as obvious to everyone already seated at the table as it was to her.

"Hello, Miss Starr." Elena extended her hand, a smile like wax on her lips. "So nice to meet you."

Andie looked at Elena's hand for a moment before taking it, her fingers cold and stiff in Elena's.

"I didn't…" She licked her lips, bundling her hands at her waist. "That is to say, it is very nice to meet you, Miss Gilbert."

Elena was not the kind of competition most women expected to run up against. Not her as the actual woman, but the fantasy men had built up in their heads about her. The illusion she had spent ten years constructing for the public. She wanted to confess to Andie that no man had ever loved her the morning after. That it was all just bright wrapping paper, and once they tore it away, Elena was that Christmas gift they had forgotten why they even wanted so badly. She got cast aside and lost in the bright paper she came in. She wanted to tell Andie those things to make her feel better, but she knew by the way Damon looked at her that Andie wouldn't be convinced. Because when Damon looked at her, it was not the brightly wrapped box he saw, but all the things Elena didn't even know she had inside. And if she could tell that, then surely this woman, with her sharp eyes and obvious keen intelligence, saw it, too.

Elena was seated between Damon and Rose. Fortunately, Andie was across the table. Maybe it wasn't fortunate, because she had an unobstructed view of them beside each other, and for the life of her, Rose couldn't seem to look away.

Conversation floated around Elena, giving her clues to this woman Damon almost married. Apparently Andie worked for an organization that supplied clean water to developing nations. Of course she did. Elena was probably the only person at this table who had never dug a well. _What am I doing here?_ Elena thought. _I'm so out of my depth. Oh, I can follow the conversation about foreign policy, even though I don't contribute much. I'm not an imbecile._ But everyone here had given their lives to service of some sort, and the only thing Elena had served in ten years, besides the Whitmore Foundation, was herself. She felt Damon's eyes on her, probing her reticence, but she only offered a smile over her wineglass. She would just get through this and try not to draw attention to herself.

Damon leaned in to whisper in her ear, and she felt Andie's eyes on them instantly.

"Are you okay?" His eyes ran over her face, his concern an intimacy in itself.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" Elena took a sip of her white wine and gave Damon a smile. It was phony, but maybe it would fool him and the others at the table.

But it didn't.

Throughout the five-course meal, Elena felt his eyes picking at the edges of the mask she dropped over her face. The force of his stare pried at her façade until she was not sure how much longer she could hold on to the image she was so used to projecting, like a front on a theatre stage. Painted beautifully, a backdrop for drama, but flat and propped up by spindly wood.

"Damon," Rose said as the servers set dessert on the table. "They are signalling for the honourees."

Damon took one last sip of wine and tossed his napkin over his plate.

"Guess I better go." He dipped his head to study Elena's face, and she turned to look at him. "You will be all right?"

Elena couldn't help it. Damon had found a way to, with just a look, tear down her defences. She could feel her expression softening. Everything that had been pulled tight under Andie's steady scrutiny all night loosened and gave when he looked at her.

"I will be fine." She reached under the table to squeeze his hand. "Good luck."

Damon had that look he got on his face just before he kissed her, and Elena willed him not to. She willed him to remember and to consider the heartbroken woman across the table. He narrowed his eyes for a second, squeezed her hand back under the table, and walked off.

The table was silent for a few moments, and Elena realized that everyone understood the small drama playing out. These people knew Damon and Andie as a couple. This was their world, and Elena was some exotic bird swooping in to light on the shoulder of one of their own.

"So Elena, Grayson Gilbert is your father, right?" A gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair asked between bites of his cheesecake.

"Yes." She sketched a quick nod and smile, pushing away her dessert even though her panties-only photo shoot was behind her.

"He and Nathan Whitmore have done an astounding job with Augustine Enterprises." He gave a slow shake of his head, his mouth turned down in disapproval. "It is a shame that the young pup is going to take it after all your father has done."

Surprise made Elena went still, hand poised over the cheesecake to at least bring the strawberry on top to her mouth.

"You mean Aaron?" she chuckled. "He is no pup. More like a Doberman. He and I grew up in Augustine Enterprises, and he has been working with his father since he was fourteen years old preparing for this transition. He is more than ready."

"But your father—"

"Has contributed greatly, and has always known Nathan wanted his son to succeed him," Elena said firmly, steadying her eyes on the man questioning something he knew nothing about. "Aaron is a man of integrity, conviction, and unerring competence. I have all faith he is the kind of forward-thinking leader to take Augustine further than it has ever been."

End of story. Her stare and tone told him so, and he dropped it, but she couldn't help but wonder how many others in the business community shared those sentiments.

And if her father was the fire fuelling them.

"I forgot you are the goodwill ambassador for the Whitmore Foundation, right?" he asked.

"Yes, have been for many years. It is one of my favourite things I get to do."

"What does that entail exactly?" Andie interjected, addressing Elena for the first time since their introduction. "Posing with some orphans and starving children, a few strategically placed flies buzzing around?"

Elena was stunned. She literally gasped as Andie's words dug into her like tiny talons. This woman, who almost married Damon, who Elena was sure did good all over the world, just hurled malice at her head like a snowball, hard and icy. Elena was not the only one taken aback. Rose and Enzo stared at Andie, eyes widen, mouths slightly agape. Rose slid her eyes to Elena, and Elena saw the closest thing to kindness she had ever shown her.

Elena got it. Damon was a hard man to lose, but this little heifer had no idea who she was messing with. Just as she was marshalling her forces, gathering fiery darts to return fire, Andie blinked several times, eyes bright with tears before she lowered her lashes, biting her lip.

Elena couldn't do it. This woman was devastated. She obviously thought there was still a chance with Damon. It was not Elena's fault. He had decided that before he even met her, but she couldn't make Andie believe that. For once, mercy held her tongue.

"Yeah, something like that."

Andie looked up at Elena, her eyes already sorry, but the speaker onstage took their attention before she could follow through on the apology Elena saw on her face. There were five people being honoured, but Elena couldn't tell what one of them looked like other than Damon. She couldn't take my eyes off him. He was laughing at something the host said, his wide smile looking so gorgeous and sexy.

Elena wanted him fiercely. Not the handsome face, or the tower of muscle and bone. She wanted his secrets. She wanted his dreams. She wanted his hopes. She wanted everything she had never cared about with anyone else.

She tore her eyes away from his face long enough to glance at Andie, only to find her eyes fixed on him, too.

Andie wanted him, too, and Elena's heart contracted with something like sympathy for her. But Andie couldn't have him. Elena was not that selfless.

Once the awards had been given and money had been raised for the various causes the night benefits, it was time to go, and Elena couldn't say she was sorry to see this night end.

"You okay?" Damon took her hand as they waited outside for the car to pull around. "You have been subdued all night."

"I'm fine." Elena hoped her smile reassured him, even though she was still sorting through the things she had learned tonight about Andie, about him, about herself.

He took an extra second to study her before looking down the long lines of cars queued up to collect the ambassadors, dignitaries, and leaders from tonight's gala.

"I think that is our car." He squinted to see. "If so, we can walk down. I want to get you out of the cold. Wait here. I will be right back."

Damon was only a few feet down the block when Elena felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to find Andie facing her. They stared at each other for a few moments before Andie finally spoke.

"I wanted to apologize for that comment I made." Andie looked at the sidewalk before looking back to Elena. "It was uncalled for."

"It is fine, Andie. It was a difficult situation, and sometimes we say things we would take back in times like that. Believe me, I have done it more than once."

"Thank you for understanding." Andie looked torn, but then seemed to come to a decision. "He is a good man. One of the best ha've ever known."

Elena didn't reply, but just waited for her to say whatever else she still had to say to her because it was obvious she had not done.

"If you are just toying with him, then I think—"

"Stop right there." Elena ran her tongue over her teeth before she spoke. "You don't know me, Andie. You have no idea what is important to me or how I actually live my life. Only what you have read."

"Yes, but—"

"I repeat." Elena paused for effect, lifting her brows for emphasis. "You do not know me, and my relationship with Damon is private."

"Relationship?" Dismay clouded Andie's eyes. "Are you saying…are you saying it is serious between you two?"

Before Elena answered, Damon joined them, his smile stiffening when he saw Andie beside Elena.

"That is our car, Elena." He linked their fingers, but smiled at Andie. "Good seeing you again, andie. I'm in London…"

He trailed off, looking over Andie's shoulder at Enzo and Rose approaching.

"When are we in London, Rose?"

"Next month." Rose's eyes darted between Andie and Elena like she had prepared to break up a fight if necessary. "At David's office."

"Next month at your office," Damon finished. "I'm sure we will see each other then."

He bent to kiss her cheek, and like an involuntary response, her small hand reached up to touch his hair. He pulled back immediately, wearing a rueful smile.

"I need to go, Andie. See you soon." He steered Elena towards the car, tossing parting words at Enzo and Rose. "See you two back at the house."

In the car, Elena had nothing to say. She couldn't shake her last glimpse of Rose, her almond-coloured eyes, bright and devastated, glued to Elena's hand holding Damon's. Elena wanted him so badly, but he should be with someone like Andie. Everyone at that table tonight, everyone in that room probably, thought so. Wondered what a man like Damon was doing dallying with a woman like Elena.

"Elena, talk to me." Damon raised the privacy partition, leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, eyes on Elena's face. "Did someone say something to you? Was it Andie?"

"No, I…" Elena looked into his blue-grey eyes, so confused by her feelings. Vacillating between what she knew was probably best for him and what she selfishly wanted. "I was just thinking I will be fine tomorrow on my own. For the meeting with Shaunti's rep, I mean."

Damon frowned heavily, his eyes searching her face.

"I'm going with you."

"No, you don't have to. I think I will be fine." She looked out the window, relieved to see they were in front of her apartment. "I can make my own way up. Have a great trip to South Africa. Be safe."

Before he could stop her, Elena jerked open the door and took long, swift strides into the lobby. She rushed past Clive, giving him a nod, but not stopping.

"Elena, wait," Damon said from behind her.

She kept walking, even though it felt like she was fleeing the thing she wanted more than everything else. His hand on her elbow pulled her up just short of the elevator door.

"I said wait." His voice was low and even, but emotion puckered below the surface.

They boarded the elevator together and Elena input the code for the penthouse level, neither of them speaking. He walked her to her door, and she turned to face him.

"Thanks for walking me up."

"I'm coming in." His tone warned her that she was in for a fight if she refused, so she opened the door, walking in ahead of him.

"What is up, Damon?" Elena schooled her features into an even mask, keeping some space between them because she lost her head every time Damon touched her.

"You tell me." Damon loosened his bow tie, allowing it to hang on either side of his neck. "I go up to accept the award, come back, and you are like a different person. What the hell, Elena?"

"I just…" She searched her mind for an excuse that would get him out of here, but she had a hard time being anything but honest with him. "I just felt a little out of place tonight, I guess. Like I didn't belong."

"Didn't belong?" A laugh huffed over his lips. "How do you think I felt the first few times I was in the room with prime ministers and presidents? Me, the son of a postal worker and a school teacher? I'd think you would be used to it by now, though."

"Yeah, not that kind of belong." Elena pulled her hair over her shoulder, ran her hands down her legs, shifted her weight. "I meant like I didn't belong with you."

"Not belong with me?" His expression went stony. "Did Rose say something to you? Or Andie?"

"It doesn't matter. I don't need them to tell me you can do better."

"I can do what?" Damon took a step towards her, frowning when Elena took a step back. "What the hell do you mean I can do better? Than what?"

"Than me." She pressed her hand to her forehead, not because her head hurt, but because it was flooded with thoughts of how they could be together, of how he could be different from all the others, of how she could be different with him than she had ever been. And she was not sure any of it was actually possible. And to know someone like him was out there and she might not be good enough, it made her ache with unreasonable loss.

"Elena, look at me." Damon pulled her hand away from her head, linking their fingers and resting their clasped hands against his chest. "It is not a matter of good enough. I'm good for you, and you are good for me. That is enough, and I really don't care what anyone else thinks or says about it."

He pulled her into him, resting his hands at her sides.

"And we are good together." He leaned down to trail kisses over her jaw and down her neck, his cool breath somehow firing up her skin with his next words. "You believe that?"

"Yes." Elena could barely breathe with him this close. A pressure was building from the neediest part of her and spreading over every inch of her skin. It was a desperate desire she was not sure how much longer she could suppress. "I…yeah…I, um, I do."

She didn't even know what they were talking about anymore. When Damon shifted his hands so his thumbs rubbed over her nipples through the silk of her dress, thought was impossible. She was a sea of sensation, and wave after wave of pleasure made her wet. Made her hot.

"Damon." She lifted her lashes, and his eyes were heavy-lidded and almost black, the pupils swallowing up everything. "I, um…"

"Can I stay?" he cut in, dipping his head to lick into the shallow well at the base of her throat. "Let me stay."

Elena had wanted this for weeks; since she saw him that first night, and now that he was about to give her everything she wanted, she was the one hesitating. She was hesitating because it had to be right. Her first experience with sex was brutal and against her will. It took a long time and a lot of therapy for her to try it again, and she discovered she loved it. Loved it so much she had been reckless with it in the past, but this meant too much. Damon meant too much for her to be reckless with an intimacy she knew would mean more to her than anything ever had. She already felt closer to him than to any man before.

"Are you sure?"

Damon laughed against her neck, nudging the strap of her dress away from her shoulder with his chin and kissing the naked skin.

"Very." His hands came up to cup her face, and he parted her lips, dipping inside, possessing her sweetly, then harder and deeper with every brush of their tongues. Elena strained against him, moaning into his mouth, drawing his tongue in deeper.

"What is different?" She asked against his soft lips. "Why now?"

"Why are you hesitating?" His breath came heavy as he pulled away the other strap of her dress until it gave way, falling to her waist, baring her breasts to him. His knuckles whispered over her nipples, and her knees almost buckled. She leaned into him for support.

"Because…" Elena swallowed, struggling to focus. "Because I want it to be right between us. It means too much not to be."

Damon leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"That is why now."


	21. Chapter 21

Damon didn't plan this. He didn't think it would be tonight, but now, hearing Elena wrestled with whether she was good enough for him, he knew it should be. It had to be. Even though things were undeniably awkward with Andie present, he loved having Elena at his side tonight. Everything was richer and brighter with her. Awards and honours didn't do much for him anymore. It had never been why he did the things he did, but his chest stuck out like a peacock's accepting that award tonight because Elena was there. Because she saw him receive it.

Damon loved seeing Elena in his world. It made him realize how much he wanted to keep her there, and even though her life was about to become a mess after this meeting about Liam Davis tomorrow, he wanted to be in it with her. No matter what. If he tried to put this into words, he would screw it up. He would scare her away. He would freak her out. But if he told her with his body—with his hands, with his mouth, with any part of him that could reach any part of her—she would know.

"Take me to your bedroom." He left the breath-wrapped words, half plea, half command, in the fragile shell of her ear.

She looked up at him, and if it were anyone but Elena, Damon would swear her eyes were shy. The bodice of her dress hung around her hips, and she crossed her arms over her breasts. Her eyes flitted from him to the floor, then back up and around her apartment.

"You are sure?" She tucked the fullness of her bottom lip between her teeth.

Damon didn't think it would be like this. He was not dumb or blind or stupid. He had known for weeks this was what she wanted, and he could barely walk straight every time they were in a room together, so she must know how much he wanted it, too. He just wanted it to be the right time; when it would mean as much to her as it would to him.

And now it did.

He was glad they waited and didn't just one-night-stand their way to something less than this would be. He turned her in the direction he knew that led to her bedroom, pressing his chest to her naked back, crossing his arms across her waist and walking her down the hall. Her small steps forward were driving him crazy because he couldn't wait to unwrap this gift he had been saving. He contented himself with nibbles at her neck and kisses across her shoulders until they entered her darkened bedroom.

Elena walked ahead of him, using one arm to turn on the lamp and one arm to cover her breasts. _Is this the girl who posed for Playboy?_ Damon thought. _The one who, without blinking, autographs the copies horny boys thrust in her face? If they could see her now._ Actually, he would want to gouge out the eyes of anyone who saw her now. Not just the half-naked perfection of her body, but the vulnerability of her eyes in these moments before he took her and she took him. He wanted this just for himself and just for her. These were the most intimate moments of his life and they still had their clothes on.

Damon walked deeper into the room and stopped in front of her, pulling her arm away from her breasts. The cool air piqued her nipples to tight, pink points. Or maybe it was his stare that did that, because he couldn't look at anything else for a few moments. His fingers found the zipper at the base of her spine, tugging until the dress fell to the floor.

He was thirty-five years old. He had seen more naked bodies than he could remember, but everything, everyone else, was pale and distant next to this woman. The elegant slope of her shoulders, the full curve of her breasts with their pouty nipples. The dramatic cinch of her waist swelling into the curve of her hips. The long, toned stretch of those famous legs. Damon hated it when they called her the Goddess because she was flesh and blood and bone, and he wanted to know her, not just her body. But seeing her in this faint light, standing tall in nothing but a lacy black thong, he got it. He understood why they had called her the Goddess.

He sank to his knees, looking up to find Elena's eyes soft and hot on him. With their eyes still melded, Damon slid his tongue over the sleek muscles in her stomach. Her indrawn breath spurred him on to dip his head, with his teeth pulling the strips of lace at her hips aside and down. His fingers took over, pushing the panties over her thighs and knees until they landed around her ankles, resting on her shiny shoes. She stepped out of them, standing on one leg and kicking the other back to take off her shoes.

He gave her a gentle push to the bed, prying her legs open and dusting kisses over the insides of her thighs, behind her knees, over the finely made ankles and the high arch of her foot. She was gasping, panting, whispering his name.

Elena tugged at his hair, pulling him up to her mouth and kissing him deep, her tongue pushing into his mouth and across his teeth. She was biting and sucking his lips. Her hands were frantic, pushing at his jacket, sliding it down his arms. She flicked the buttons of his shirt open. Damon's breath stopped in his throat when her nails scraped across his abs and then drifted down to his zipper. She jerked it down, her eyes on him, all shyness absent. She pushed down his pants until they pooled around his knees. Her eyes, hungry, hot, eager, touched on every part of him she had revealed.

"You are so beautiful, Damon."

Her voice was soft, almost reverent. No one had ever looked at him like this, ever said his name quite that way. They were only touched, only kissed, and Damon was already more satisfied than he had ever been with any woman before her, and yet still ravenous.

Elena stood, pulling Damon to his feet and then pushing him to sit on the bed. His pants and shoes came off, her hands caressing, her mouth worshipping the same way he worshipped her. When she reached the band of his briefs, her fingers hovered and a wicked smile took over her sweet lips. She pulled them over his thighs, her eyes widening when she saw him for the first time.

"Oh me oh my." She sighed and wrapped her hands around him, her grip sure and tight. "Tonight had its stresses."

 _What the hell is she talking about?_ Damon wondered. He couldn't hold any sane thought with her hands stroking up and then down, up and then down. He grunted in response, his eyes tightly closed.

"It was so stressful," she continued, her breath hot on the most vulnerable part of him, "I skipped dessert."

Before Damon could tell her it may not be a good idea, that he might not last if she did this, she took him in her mouth and down her throat.

"Damn." Her mouth working at him, the pull and suck, wrenched the imprecation from him. "Elena…..."

"That's next"—she let him go long enough to assure him—"I like my dessert first."

Just when Damon was sure he would erupt in her mouth, his fingers fisted in her hair, she released him and stood to her feet, licking her shiny lips.

"You taste better than that cheesecake." A husky laugh passed her lips, and she ran the tips of her fingers over her breasts, down her stomach, and past her thighs. "Do you want to touch me, Damon?"

Damon answered with his hands, running them over the muscles in her butt and thighs, sliding them over her breasts. He slipped his hand into the tight cove between her legs, thrusting one finger into the slick heat.

Her head dropped back, her hips flexing with the motion of his finger.

"Damon, I'm ready. I'm so ready."

"Are you sure, Elena?" he asked hoarsely. "You seemed hesitant before."

Elena captured his eyes with hers, not blinking or letting them go as she settled her knees on either side of his legs. Damon couldn't believe this was finally going to happen.

"Dammit, Elena." He rested his forehead against her neck. "Protection."

A laugh drifted up from her throat.

"Are you going to think badly of me when I reach into my supply by the bed?"

Damon ran his hand up her back, thrusting his fingers into her hair and holding her head still, holding her eyes with his.

"Not as long as that's just my supply from now on."

Little pieces of her smile slowly fell away until her mouth was a sober line. She stretched to the bedside table, took out and tore the foil packet, sliding the condom over him. Breath huffed past his lip at even that simple touch.

Eyes locked with his, she slowly slid down over him, pressing her nose to his.

"Only yours from now on, Damon. I promise."

It was slow at first, a gentle rise and fall of her hips, but Damon was pushing up deeper and harder with every motion. A small line sketched between her brows, and her top lip was hidden in the full curve of the bottom.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked.

"Good grief no," Elena gasped, tipping her head back until her hair brushes his thighs. "I'm just…"

She rolled her hips into him, elbows hooked at his neck, breasts caressing his chest. Every thrust, every brush of their bodies, every slide in and out, stoked something between them. They became frantic, her cries, his pants, their breaths filling the room. Damon loved how hard she rode him, how there were no inhibitions, only a complete immersion into this inferno of pleasure.

"Damon, I…"She squeezed her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed pink, her lip between her teeth. "Ahhhh. Oh. Yes. Oh, yes."

And Damon was right behind her, coming so hard his vision went bright. He gripped her hips, still pumping over him. His hands slid over her sweat-slick thighs, up to her back, pressing her as close to him as he could manage. He crossed his arms at her back, melding their bodies until not even a breath could separate them.

With his head buried in her long dark brown hair, and the soft kisses she left at his neck and over his shoulders as they came down, Damon knew he wanted nothing to ever separate them again.


	22. Chapter 22

That door looked so good right now to Elena. Sitting here waiting to meet Shaunti Miller, at the precipice of an irreversible decision that would throw her life into chaos, that door looked so good. Two things stopped her from getting up and strutting out that door and all the way back to her apartment. One, Halima's words still had their hooks in her heart and echoed in her head, provoking her to follow through on the conscience she had managed to ignore for most of her life. And, two, the man at her side, holding her hand and just being…there. Just being there for her, encouraging her to reach for that good Aaron assured her was in there somewhere.

Damon's thumb stroking her hand distracted her for a few seconds. They had been touching each other all morning. Last night he kicked down some door, invading an inner sanctum no one had ever occupied. Elena couldn't evict him. She didn't want to. Last night was…there weren't words. Only emotions. Only these feelings she had never had before. Elena felt the hardest thing about this morning's meeting was the fear that it would get so bad once she went public with her story that she would lose this thing with Damon. And it was the sweetest, purest, most genuine thing she had ever had. Last night raised the stakes so high. Losing him now—she couldn't wrap her head around that.

And as much as she didn't want to admit it to herself, it was not just her head. It was her heart, too. She couldn't wrap her heart around losing him.

"You okay?" Damon leaned forward to peer at Elena. "I know this is hard, Elena, but it is the right thing to do."

"I know." Nerves propelled a laugh from her. "I'm not used to doing the right thing, so there is a little bit of a learning curve here."

Damon brushed the hair back from her face, cupping her cheek and leaning forward to drop a soft kiss on her lips. Elena needed more. She needed something other than this sick panic gnawing through her insides, so she leaned deeper into his kiss, hoping the hunger she always felt with him would distract her for just a little while. And it did, for a few seconds, as they nipped and sucked and licked into a kiss that both soothed and incited. Damon pulled away, laying his forehead against hers, his fingers brushing across her neck under her hair.

"Elena Gilbert, you taste so sweet." His breath misted her lips. "I may just eat you alive."

"Yes, please." Elena laid one more kiss against his lips, holding on to this sensation for as long as she could.

When she pulled back, they grinned at each other for a moment. This was special. This was different from anything she had had, and she realized that what Damon wanted for them, it was happening. That they were learning each other, and loving what they learnt, and wanting each other. They had become…Elena searched for the word. For the way to describe how it felt to have her hand in his moments before she dove into a shit storm that could wreck everything she had worked for and everything she still wanted to have.

 _Close,_ Elena thought. There was that word again. They felt close. It didn't take long, and it was not fully formed, but she wanted to keep walking in his direction as much as he wanted to keep walking in hers. And even though it was early, she knew she wanted to be closer to Damon than she had been to the others.

The door opened. Not the one that offered her a way of escape, but the door that led to chaos and mayhem and public humiliation. And maybe, finally, to some kind of justice.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Gilbert." Karen Sims stood in her office door, motioning for Elena to come in. "I wanted to chat with Shaunti a little before you arrived."

Elena stood, surprised her wobbly legs supported her. Damon stood with her, his hand at her back. They started walking towards Karen Sims, Shaunti's lawyer.

"Just you, Miss Gilbert." Karen firmed her mouth into a straight line, her eyes flicking between Damon and Elena. "Shaunti is prepared to speak only with you, not anyone else."

Elena was about to yield, but the thought of going through this completely alone almost sent her through that other door. She needed Damon with her.

"Miss Sims, I really must insist that Mr Salvatore come in with me." She staunched the anxiety in her chest before it made it to her face. "I came here without my lawyer, my publicist, my manager, without anyone from my team. I'm talking to you of my own free will, and I'm risking a lot. I'm risking things Shaunti isn't risking anymore, so again, I must insist."

For a moment Karen Sims looked like she would rebuff Elena, but she must realize the line between Elena's stony expression and the hand holding Damon's was her line in the sand. Her take it or leave it line. She didn't look happy about it, but she nodded and gestured for Damon and Elena to precede her into the office.

Inside the office, Shaunti Miller sat in one of three seats across from Karen's desk. Damon and Elena took the other two. Elena studied her for a moment. A headband held her dark brown hair away from her face. She wore a bit of pink lipstick and some mascara, but otherwise no makeup. She had paired a long-sleeved PTA T-shirt and a pair of jeans, faded in places. On her feet she wore pink-and-teal Asics.

She was staring at Elena, which Elena couldn't resent because she was doing the same. Elena offered a tentative smile, which she returned.

"Shaunti Miller," Karen said. "Meet Elena Gilbert. Elena's friend Mr Salvatore is sitting in, if that is okay."

Shaunti studied Damon for a moment before nodding. She looked back to Elena, her eyes becoming more guarded.

"Elena, you called to say you had information that we might find interesting given the claims Shaunti made last week." Karen sat behind her desk, leaning back to fold her arms across her chest. "What kind of information exactly?"

Damon reached for Elena's hand, even though he continued to study Karen and Shaunti. For a moment Elena couldn't for the life of her remember why she would choose to do this—hurled her life into this typhoon. Then she remembered Halima. They cut that woman's clitoris off. She had to live with the complications of that sloppy butchering for the rest of her life. She couldn't even go home under threat of death, and yet she travelled the world doing exactly what she challenged women to do that day. Using her hurt to help. Ten years ago Elena decided not to speak out against Liam. There was at least one woman seated across from her who paid the price of her silence, and there were probably more.

"Liam Davis raped me when I was eighteen years old." Elena pressed her lips together before continuing. "On prom night. Couldn't get more cliché, right?"

She just spat that out, but Karen and Shaunti both stared at her, eyes arrested and mouths slightly opened.

"You are saying that…that Liam raped you, too?" Shaunti asked.

"Yes. I never came forward. I never planned to." Elena crossed her legs, tracing the stitching of her black skinny jeans. "But I'm prepared to speak out now."

Karen Sims leaned forward.

"Elena, we want to take that bastard down badly." She glanced at Shaunti, tweaking one corner of her mouth before looking back to Elena. "We were pretty close, but his team dug up some things from Shaunti's past that she couldn't have come out."

"I have a husband and a six-year-old," Shaunti added, her tone almost defensive. "One wild night in college and…"

She glanced at Damon, as if remembering that he was present.

"I just…those things couldn't come out. I had to pull back."

"We tell you this, Elena, so that you understand Liam's team will come after you with everything." Karen glanced at Damon, still holding Elena's hand. "And to be frank, you have more than one wild night for them to dig up, most of them well-documented."

"Which should be an advantage in some ways," Elena said. "Everyone knows all my dirt. There's not much left to expose."

"The thing is, Elena," Karen said, "The statute of limitations in your case, like in Shaunti's, has expired. This is purely a trial of public opinion. I will be frank. As ridiculous as it sounds, being a woman who's posed for Playboy and been as open as you have about your affairs, your sexuality, doesn't make you a sympathetic figure in rape allegations."

Hearing it put that way, especially in front of Damon, deflated Elena. _You mean to tell me I worked myself up to speak out, to finally tell my story, only to be told my voice isn't good enough because I like sex?_ she thought. _Because I'm not ashamed of my body?_ She was about to speak up, when Damon had beaten her to it.

"I'm glad you realize that sounds ridiculous, Miss Sims," Damon said. "I find it ridiculous that any reasonably intelligent person would be unable to differentiate between an adult woman having and enjoying consensual sex and an eighteen-year-old girl subjected to a violent crime."

"It is okay, Damon." Elena squeezed his hand, wishing he weren't hearing this. It was embarrassing to be told everyone thought that she was too slutty to believe she would ever turn down sex, even from a rapist.

"No, it is not." Damon looked at her, his eyes dark and flinty. "Elena came here to see if she could assist with your efforts in exposing Liam Davis for the criminal scum that he is. If you don't want her involvement, I don't have to tell you her team is more than capable of handling this without you."

He leaned back, resting one elbow on the seat's arm.

"But you would regret that, wouldn't you, Miss. Sims?" A laugh laced with cynicism passed his lips. "The chance to attach yourself to such a high-profile figure in a case against a powerful man? A case that will garner national attention? You won't pass up that chance, will you?"

Karen Sims's cheeks went red. Her nostrils flared. Her mouth tightened.

"Now, you listen here, Mr Salvatore—"

"No, you listen here, Karen. May I call you Karen?" Damon dropped Elena's hand and leaned forward, resting a palm on the desk in front of them. "You have got about ten seconds to convince us that if Elena comes forward she will have your unequivocal support, and that you will speak with confidence on her behalf. If not, then I will advise Elena to walk right now. Because I can guarantee you there are a thousand others in New York just like you, but there is only one Elena. One person with the kind of international instant recognition, with a profile higher than even Liam's, who can actually fight him and win."

Elena was blinking back tears. Because Damon just stood up for her when no one usually did. Because there was no doubt he believed her, when her parents didn't. When her parents wouldn't stand up for her or with her. Because it was apparent he actually cared about her.

"I was merely advising Elena that they will come after her hard," Karen said. "And that there will be people who take his side. He is a very popular man right now. He is an Independent, but garners a lot of conservative support based on his fiscal positions. If he can rally conservative support against Elena, it could get really ugly."

"I understand that," Elena said.

"I want to work with you, Elena." Karen turned her words and eyes deliberately in Damon's direction. "For the right reasons, but you need to know there is a lot to lose. Do your parents know about this? Your father has been very publicly aligned with Liam Davis lately."

"Yeah, they know." Elena licked her lips, hating that she had to say the next words, but it had to be said. "We can't count on them for support."

"Your parents don't believe you?" Surprise stretched Shaunti's eyes and lifted her brows.

"I think they believe me. They just don't care."

The silence that followed Elena's statement was telling. She knew what Karen and Shaunti were thinking. If she couldn't count on her own parents to side with her against Liam Davis, how could she expect anyone else to?

"Okay, well then." Karen cleared her throat. "I'm not asking this in a judgmental way, but just so that we can be prepared for anything."

"All right. Ask away."

"I did a little searching before you came." Karen steadied her eyes on Elena's face. "Just some recon to prepare for your visit."

"I'm sure that was a fascinating Google search," Elena muttered.

"Besides the Playboy spread, a very public affair with a prominent married man." Karen cleared her throat again, shooting a glance at Damon that made Elena scared to hear what dirt she was about to bring out from under the carpet. "A, ahem, threesome or two bragged about in the tabloids."

Damon looked at Elena sharply, brows in the air, asking the silent question. Elena just shrugged one shoulder.

"I was young and drunk."

"Which brings me to my next question, Elena," Karen said. "Any drug use?"

"I'm a model, Karen," Elena replied. "If you are asking if someone somewhere may have a picture of me snorting a line of coke, that could happen. I'm not an addict, by any means. It would have been rare, but at a party or after a shoot, things happen. I'm not the one on trial here."

"And neither is Liam, at least not criminally," Karen said. "We have to be clear about what a win is for us. Neither you nor Shaunti have a criminal case anymore, but with her allegations still in people's minds, and then someone as high profile as you adding yours, it will at least bring pressure for him to drop out of the Senate race. And, hopefully, encourage some girl who does still have a criminal case against him to come forward."

"That is exactly what we have been thinking," Elena said.

"In the meantime, Elena," Karen said, sympathy in her eyes and on her face. "They will make life hell for you."

"It can't be worse than the night he raped me." Elena's voice shook only the tiniest bit, but from Damon's eyes fixed on her face, Elena thought he had heard it. "For days afterward I had bruises and bite marks from his attack. I didn't take pictures, but I have never forgotten that."

"Did he bite your, um…" Shaunti glanced self-consciously at Damon. "Your breasts?"

"Yes." Elena looked at her wrist, half surprised not to see red whelp marks ringing them. "And he belted my wrists."

"Mine, too," Shaunti whispered. "Did he ejaculate on your stomach at the end? I couldn't understand why he…he just…Did he do that to you, too?"

Elena could only offer a jerky nod, the memory of that humiliation sealing her lips together. She was tied to the hotel bed with his belt knotted around her wrists, his eyes locked on hers while he spent himself on her belly and rubbed it into her skin. Hours after she showered until her skin turned raw, she could still feel that wet stickiness violating her.

"If he did those things to both of us, maybe it is a pattern." Shaunti brushed a tear from her cheek. "And there is another girl who will hear your story and come forward, too."

"Would you be willing to share a detailed account, Elena?" Karen asked.

"Yes, of course." Elena frowned before going on. "The attack itself remained vivid in my mind for years, but the time afterward got hazy. We tried to reconstruct those hours afterward in therapy, but bits and pieces of it just aren't clear."

"You saw a therapist?" Shaunti asked.

"Yes, in Milan." Elena rubbed the face of her watch, surprised at how much time had passed. She needed to get Damon out of here so he could prepare for his trip. "We don't have a lot of time left. We need to get going soon. Mr Salvatore has a flight."

"Of course." Karen jotted down a few notes on a legal pad. "Start trying to reconstruct those hours following the attack, the ones you say remain hazy. People will ask why you are just now coming forward, and if there is anything in that time frame we need to speak about, we need you to remember it."

How different would things have been if she had come forward? Elena thought. Hadn't heard her parents arguing? Had knocked on their door with her bruises and bite marks, evidence of Liam's brutality, instead of hiding it for days. Now it was just her word against his, but she was determined he wouldn't have the last word.

"We really do need to go." Elena stood and so did Damon. "What is the next step?"

"You and I need to have a follow-up where you share a detailed account of the incident. I have Shaunti's account on file, and we need to have that for the record, but also for you to get used to recalling and articulating your story. You will have to tell it soon."

"I will coordinate with my assistant and get back to you with a time. She keeps my schedule."

"Fine, and give me a day or so. We will craft a statement for release." Karen stood, too. "In the meantime, play this close to the chest. I know you want to apprise your team, but no one beyond that. We stand a better chance with Liam's team having less notice."

"Well, my parents know I'm planning to do this." Elena's lips took on a bitter twist. "They were very clear that they would not support me, and have probably already told Liam about my allegations."

"In that case," Karen said, a frown puckering between her eyebrows, "Liam's team is already digging."

"They can dig all they want. I have got nothing to hide."

A small voice Elena had managed to suppress until now reminded her there was one thing left to hide, left to find, but she dismissed that. That she did manage to bury. That wouldn't come back to haunt her. She was too careful. Too discreet.

"Well, if there is, they will find it. Secrets, especially for someone as high profile as you, are like bodies on the bayou. When the rain comes, the corpses rise above ground."

Elena's belly clenched. That one secret was hers and hers alone. They could drag her through the mud, but that she would carry to her grave.

"I recommend a small press conference with a live statement," Karen said. "That would have the most impact."

"I don't want a press conference." Elena levelled a look at Karen that told her not to push her on this. "That statement you want to release is fine, but I need you to coordinate any written communication with my team. I have to bring them all up to speed. My lawyer will be in touch with you."

"And the press conference?" Karen persisted. "You need to be ready to speak on this, Elena, if you are serious about taking Liam down."

"I am prepared, but maybe I could just record a statement from home or my office and release that. Then follow up later with an interview with someone I trust."

"Whatever we do, let's do it in the next day or so," Karen said. "Following Shaunti's allegations so closely with yours will raise a lot of questions, especially for those who know there must be some fire with this much smoke."

Shaunti stood, too, extending her hand to Elena. Elena took it, and she pulled her in for a hug. Elena froze, unsure of how to respond.

"Thank you so much for doing this." Shaunti sniffed, squeezing Elena tighter before stepping back. "I wanted to take him down. If I hadn't—"

"Hey, don't judge yourself too harshly," Elena said. "I can't blame you. Your family comes first. If I had those ties, I'm sure I would hesitate. Hell, I don't have those ties and it took me ten years."

Both women passed a smile, sympathy, back and forth to each other, uniquely connected by Liam's cruelty, but mostly by their survival.

The elevator down was crowded, so Damon and Elena didn't talk about what just happened. In the press of bodies, he linked their fingers, and it was enough. Even that tiny contact with him calmed the roiling in Elena's soul, but she broke it as soon as they entered the lobby. She put a block of space between them while walking out to meet Baker on the sidewalk. Damon reached for her hand, but she stepped out of reach. He laid a hand at her back, but she walked ahead, outside and towards the car waiting for them. His hand shackling her wrist pulled her up just short of the idling vehicle and her faithful driver.

"You don't want me to touch you?" Damon's voice was low and even, but his eyes revealed that it bothered him. "Did talking about that night do that?"

The people rushing past didn't stop for them, but Elena still carefully extracted her wrist from his hand.

"No, it is not that." She shook her head dismissively. "After ten years and lots of therapy, the night itself has very little power over me anymore. I'm more worried about the fallout from coming forward."

"Like losing endorsements?" He frowned. "That kind of fallout?"

"No, fallout for you, Damon." Elena looked away, not wanting to discuss this on the sidewalk. "You heard Karen. It is going to get really ugly. I don't want that associated with you in any way."

Damon opened his mouth, and Elena could already hear his rebuttal even though he hadn't voiced it yet.

"Car is here." Elena walked towards Baker, who stood by the open back door. She gave him her usual kiss on the cheek before gesturing towards Damon. "Baker, meet Damon Salvatore."

The two men sized each other up for a few seconds before Damon extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Baker," he said. "How long have you been putting up with this little filly?"

The stiff lines of Baker's face relented, cracking with a small smile.

"Since she was a little girl, Mr Salvatore," Baker returned. "I have had that privilege for as long as she can probably remember."

"Lucky man." Damon ran the backs of his fingers across Elena's cheekbone.

An uncustomary heat spread across her face at Damon's gentle touch.

"Thought I would never see the day again!" Baker chuckled. "Miss G, you are actually blushing."

Elena pressed her hands to her cheeks, frowning and stepping into the backseat.

"I am not. It is the cold. Your fault for keeping me waiting."

She couldn't help but grin as she settled into the back and waited for Damon to climb in, since Baker had never had her waiting a day in all the years he had served her family.

As soon as Damon was seated, Baker picked up right where they left off.

"I'm not pretending we aren't together because of your misguided sense of protectiveness." Damon eliminated the space between them and dragged Elena onto his lap.

"Damon, stop." She struggled half-heartedly because pressed against this wall of reassuring muscle and bone and warmth and care was exactly where she needed to be.

"I won't stop." He presses a kiss into her hair, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Not until you hear me. I told you I don't give a damn what people think or say, Elena. You are doing a brave thing, and I will be proud for people to know we are together. That I'm standing with you."

Elena lowered her lashes to cover the sudden, foolish tears standing in her eyes. As much as it was Damon's bulldozer obstinacy that got him that first date, it was his tenderness that drew and kept her close. She couldn't help but wonder how different things could have been had she actually gone to Princeton, like originally planned. What if she had met Damon there? Would he have helped her heal? Those first two years after Liam, she was a wreck.

"You know, I didn't have sex for almost two years after that night with Liam" Elena whispered into his neck, rubbing the lapel of his suit between her fingers. "I worked so hard to sort through my issues with sex after what he did. And I cried through the first few times I was with a man."

She laughed, her voice husky with the tears that she tried very hard to hold on to.

"Those poor guys wondering what the hell was wrong with me." Elena shook her head. "I was posing in my underwear, selling fantasy, and flinched every time a man came near me in real life."

"Elena, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." Damon stroke her hair back, concern darkening his eyes.

"No, it's okay. I just…it took so much for me to have a normal sex life. To even tolerate a man's touch, and now my learning to enjoy sex after Liam has ruined it for me is the very thing that will make it harder for me to put him away."

She looked up, a sudden thought making her anxious.

"I'm not some nympho, Damon. I'm a normal girl with a normal sex life. Mine is just splashed across every tabloid known to man."

"I know that, Elena. You don't have to…" He trailed off, kissing her temple. "I know that."

"Thank you so much for going with me." Elena reached up to run her hand over his silky hair. "I couldn't have done that without you."

"I wanted to be there."

Damon dropped a quick kiss on her lips. He moved to pull away, but that one touch was all it took to light the match. His fingers slid into her hair, palming the back of her head, holding her still to control and deepen the kiss. She leaned into his shoulder, returning every stroke of his tongue slowly, then more aggressively, until they were both panting into the space they gave each other to catch their breath.

Damon looked up, catching Baker's eyes in the mirror.

"We are giving Baker quite the show," he said quietly.

"Baker is used to me," Elena assured him, pulling him in for another kiss.

"Well, I'm not used to Baker." Damon raised the privacy partition, smiling at Baker in the mirror before the small window was all the way up. As soon as they were sealed in, Damon was back, raining kisses down her neck, stroking her through her jeans. She pushed against his hand, hungry for the pressure. Desperate for relief.

"What do you have for the rest of the day?" He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, the sensual suction sending a quake to her core.

"Nothing I can't cancel to be with you."

"Good girl." He laughed against her neck. "You can come help me pack for South Africa."

"Is packing a euphemism for sex?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Well, let's go home and pack, because if how you packed last night—"

"And this morning," he whispered against her collarbone. "Don't forget this morning."

"God, yes, the way you packed this morning." The memory of seeing his head moving under the covers between her legs made Elena shiver. "I could use a good pack before you leave me for the next week."

Damon pulled back abruptly, eyes fixed on her.

"To be clear, Elena," he said, his voice losing some of the heat, "I'm the only man you are packing with. Got it?"

Elena leaned in to kiss under his chin, pushing her fingers into his hair.

"Are you saying we are exclusive, Mr Salvatore?" she teased.

His eyes were sober, going darker every second he stared at her.

"I'm saying you are mine."

Elena had never abided possessiveness. She had been her own woman too long to be anyone else's, but the possessive heat of Damon's eyes burnt right through any protest because she wanted that, too. She wanted to be his. Any claim he laid to her was an absolute privilege.

She smiled. "I would like that."

 _You are mine, too,_ she thought.

One would think after what she just did in Karen's office, after what she had set in motion with Liam Davis, saying those three words aloud to a man who so obviously cared for her and wanted to claim her, would be easy, but Elena couldn't seem to find the nerve.


	23. Chapter 23

Damon had never considered himself a shallow man; he had never been impressed by a woman's superficial qualities. His mother taught him early on to look beyond the surface of a woman, and to search out her substance. He had taken that wisdom into every relationship he had ever had. Looks had never been that important.

But damn.

Watching Elena sleeping in his bed, Damon couldn't help but thank every lucky star that his woman had substance and this body. The sheet had fallen away, baring her breasts and flat stomach. Her long, silky hair spilled over his pillow. They kissed away any trace of her lipstick before they even made it to Brooklyn, so her lips were bare and slightly swollen. Just thinking about what she was doing with that mouth an hour ago had him going hard again under the sheets. He wouldn't even allow himself to wonder where she learned to give head like that. Thinking about the men in Elena's past too long, too hard, would drive him out of mind. He would just appreciate her particular talents and rested in the knowledge that he was the only one benefiting from them now.

Back propped against his headboard, watching a woman sleep for half an hour because he couldn't seem to find anything he would rather do. A knock at his door reminded Damon that he had a lot of stuffs he had to do before they left for South Africa later.

He padded over to the door, naked as the day he was born, and cracked it open just enough to see Rose in the hall, fully dressed.

"I will be ready," Damon said, pre-empting her lecture on getting his ass in gear for their flight.

"You do that." She craned her neck, trying to see into his bedroom. "Is someone in there? What is going on in there?"

"That information is above your pay grade, Rose." He laughed and closed the door.

He turned around to find Elena sitting up in bed, ivory sheets puddled around her waist, breasts playing peekaboo through the dark brown hair hanging over her shoulders, and eyeing him like the lunch they skipped.

"You, Mr Salvatore," she said, licking her lips and blazing her eyes over his naked body, "are a work of art."

Damon walked over to press one knee into the bed by her hip.

"So are you." He took one plump nipple into his mouth, tugging until it went tight on his tongue. "Edible art."

"Do we have time?" She pulled his head up, kissing him deep and long before he had to pull away, shaking his head and breathing like he just finished one of his Ironman races.

"Sadly, no." Damon pulled her to her feet, admiring his woman when she left the sheet behind, standing before him naked. Tempting him on purpose.

"Are you sure?" Elena lifted a little to kiss under his chin, her hand taking his cock in a tight grip and pulling. "I'm very persuasive when I set out to be. I can be quick."

"This I know." Damon had to step out of reach, or face a very irate Rose soon. "But I can't miss this flight."

"Oh, you are flying commercial." She shook her head. "I don't know why people do that."

They both laughed at her ridiculous statement on the way to the shower. After Damon washed her and she washed him, Elena had her way with him again against the shower wall. Or maybe he had her. They had each other, and if he could cancel this trip, he would. Not just for this, but to be with her over the next few difficult days. She was sitting on the counter naked, watching him shave, her breasts still flushed from the shower's steam.

"He bit your breasts?"

Damon knew it was out of the blue to her, but the images of Liam hurting Elena had been torturing him since she shared them with Karen and Shaunti. It hurt to talk. Rage grated his voice up in his throat until it was barely a sound, but a syllabic growl.

The smile Elena had been wearing almost constantly since they got here melted away. She just nodded, reaching for a nearby towel and wrapping it around herself toga style. Damon wished he hadn't mentioned it. They had managed to enjoy these last few hours of being together without that meeting completely ruining it, but he couldn't not talk about it. The bastard tied her up and jerked off on her body. If he was that sick at eighteen years old, Damon could only imagine how more time, more power, more money had decayed him. The thought of him in the same room with Elena set off small explosives in his head.

He walked into his closet not only to sort clothes for his trip, but also to sort his thoughts and to regain his composure. He didn't want to freak Elena out, but all he could think about was her safety. _What if that monster hurts her again when she exposes him?_ Damon thought. _What if he finds a way to reach her, to retaliate?_

"Do you have security, Elena?" He flicked through a couple of suits, not even seeing what he was selecting.

Elena walked into the closet now wearing his Princeton hoodie, which fell about mid-thigh.

"Uh, yeah. Some. Like I told you before, usually just for events, but I'm sure we will increase now." She scrunched her nose at the suits he pulled out. "Why are you taking those? Let me see what we have got here."

She stepped in front of Damon, her damp hair just below his nose. His body wash smelled so much better on her. His hands wander under the hoodie, over her waist to cup her breasts. She sank back into him with a sigh, head resting against his shoulder.

"I thought you needed to get out of here." Elena looked up at Damon. "Keep that up and we will be back in the shower, Mr Salvatore."

He nodded and left a kiss in her hair, moving down to grab some socks.

"Yes to this." She separated a dark suit from the others. "Is this Armani? Definitely yes to that. Where are your ties?"

She rummaged through his closet, matching ties and shirts, lovingly caressing his shoes.

"You have got great taste, Damon." She held one of his dress shirts up to her chest.

"My mother does most of my shopping for me," Damon admitted. "I just don't have the time. Nor do I much care."

"How can you not care?"

Elena dropped her arms until the shirt hung limply from her fingers. Damon had forgotten who he was talking to. It was like he just told Gandhi he should eat a Quarter Pounder.

"I mean, well, of course I care…" He shook his head, unable to even fake it. "Yeah, no. I don't care."

"When you get back, we will go shopping." Her brown eyes sparkled like it was Christmas, so as much as that sounds like a root canal without Novocain, he kissed her head and nodded.

"Sounds great."

"Besides, I'm not sure I like other women shopping for you." She frowned. "Even your mother."

"Are you possessive?" Damon buttoned and belted his pants. "Because I would love that."

"Not typically." Elena came to stand in front of him, batting his hands away from his tie so she could do it herself. "But for you I could make an exception."

His hands couldn't help themselves. They were sliding up her thighs to cup her butt before he could stop them.

"I'm definitely making an exception for you." Damon pulled back to consider her face. "And no more threesomes. I suck at sharing."

A laugh, dark and rich and rough like ground coffee, rumbled in her throat, and she looked up at him from under her lashes.

"Duly noted, and for the record, I don't even remember that threesome." Elena grinned and shrugged. "After a bottle of tequila, that whole night is a black hole. I just took those guys' word for it when they told the tabloids."

"Guys?" Damon grabbed her shoulders. "It was two guys? Never mind. I don't want to know."

Elena reached up, hooking her elbows at the back of his neck and biting his earlobe.

"I thought a threesome was every guy's fantasy."

Damon settled his hands at her hips, slipping his thumbs under the lacy string of her thong.

"I have already got one thing most guys only dream about."

She leaned up an inch more until their noses touched.

"Why are you so damn sweet?"

Damon leaned his forehead against hers, not able or wanting to hide from her how much the last twenty-four hours had meant to him.

"Because I'm so damn happy to have you." He sucked her bottom lip between his. "Does that answer your question?"

Elena tilted her head, fitting their lips together, wrapping her arms around his waist. The kiss probably lasted only a few seconds, but he was lost in it. Lost in her, until a knock on the door disrupted the kiss.

"Five minutes, Damon," Rose said from the outer door. "Enzo is already downstairs with his bags."

"Okay, I will be right out." Damon looked back to Elena, whose face looked about as deflated as he felt.

"Enzo and Rose should be together instead because they make the perfect couple." Elena grinned up at him, eyes mischievous. "The cock blockers."

"Unfortunately, Enzo is also interested in Maggie, not Rose." Damon smiled and shook her gently by her shoulders. "Ride with us to the airport. The driver can drop you off at your place after."

She nodded, pulling away and going in search of her jeans.

"Can I keep this?" She lifted the neck of his hoodie, sniffing and smiling. "It still smells like you."

"It smells like me after a hard run." Damon shook his head and rolled his eyes. "But you are welcome to it if you don't like, oh I don't know, deodorant."

Elena laughed and bent to slip on her jeans. Damon walked up and stopped her.

"Fair is fair," he whispered across her lips. "What do I get to keep of yours?"

She held his stare while she shimmied out of her panties and slipped them into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

"Don't say I never gave you anything." She pulled on her skinny jeans with a smile and walked out into the hall.

What was he going to do with that woman? He touched the silk stuffed into his coat pocket. Oh, any manner of things when he returned from South Africa.

Once in the car, Damon wished they could meet Enzo and Rose at the airport. he wanted to spend the last few minutes they had together with Elena much closer. He settled for holding her hand, and even that small gesture drew a disapproving look from Rose.

"There is a picture of you on Page Six, Damon" Rose lifted her eyes briefly from her phone, flicking a glance between Damon and Elena. "And you, Elena."

Damon had never been on Page Six in his life, and would have been fine going to the grave without that dubious honour.

"Let me see." Elena held out her hand for Rose's phone. Her smile disintegrated as soon as she read the headline. "'The Sinner and the Saint'?"

"What?" Damon leaned into her shoulder to see the screen, laughing as soon as he read the headline.

The Sinner and the Saint: Bad Girl Elena Gilbert and International Philantropreneur Damon Salvatore Paint the Town for Good.

"Did they make up a word for me? That is kind of cool." he chuckled. "Which one am I supposed to be? Sinner or saint?"

"It is not funny, Damon." Elena handed the phone back to Rose, turning her face to the window, eyes straight ahead, mouth tight.

"Elena, come on. Who cares what people think?"

"I guess I do." Elena didn't take her eyes off the water beneath the Brooklyn Bridge.

The rest of the ride was silent. Rose and Enzo on their phones. Damon was debating how seriously he should take this. Elena contemplating the city through the window.

"We are here," Rose sliced into the silence. "Come on, guys."

"Right behind you," Damon said, not moving from his spot beside Elena. "Just a minute."

Enzo nodded and got out. Rose looked like she might crack the whip, but Damon gave her a look to remind her who the boss actually was in this situation.

"Hey, you." He pulled Elena over his lap, bringing her knees on either side of his thighs so she was straddling him. "Don't let that stupid headline get to you."

"We just don't need this right now." She touched their noses together. "Not for the Collective or this case with Liam. As good as this feels, as right as it feels, I keep wondering if it is the wrong time for us."

If Damon told her what he was feeling, he could scare her off. How was he going to tell her the feeling that was missing with Andie, with every woman he had ever been with, that urgency his father told him about—he had it for her. He felt it for her. He had almost from the beginning. At first it was just a hunch that there was more to her than this body and this face. And then an urge to know for sure. It exploded into the possibility that he would never feel this for anyone else. He couldn't say any of that. They hadn't been together long enough. Elena would assume it was the sex talking. She would assume that he saw only what the other men in her life saw, what they thought they wanted from her. A good time until it was over. _How do I tell her that there is no right time or wrong time, only all the time?_ Damon wondered.

Because he didn't see this ever ending.

He couldn't tell her that, so he just kissed her until they were both breathless. He pressed her into his body and trust that she would hear his heart.

"Listen to me." Damon cupped her face, holding her eyes even though it was obvious she wanted to look away. "You are no sinner and I'm no saint. I don't care how other people label us or speculate about what we are doing. There is only one label you should worry about wearing."

"What is that?" Elena whispered, eyes softening the longer he held her.

Damon leaned into her ear and laced their fingers against his chest.

"Mine."


	24. Chapter 24

Elena missed Damon already. It was impossible that after just a few days of having him in her bed she couldn't sleep without him, but last night Elena found herself wide awake, wondering how much longer before she would have him hard and warm at her back. She knew if Damon was with her, she would have slept like a baby, feeling cared for and protected. Not to mention he would probably have made love to her into exhausted oblivion. Man, was he worth the wait. He was insatiable and couldn't get enough of her. It was so mutual.

She had enough work to keep herself busy, and a cold, lonely apartment awaited her at home, so she would stay at the office as long as possible.

"I'm knocking off," Caroline said from the door. "You coming?"

"Nah." Elena glanced up from a prospectus one of their potential charitable partners sent April. "I want to nail down at least our first four charitable partnerships before the site goes live. We have got the Whitmore Foundation, of course. I want to talk to the team about Restore, one Damon introduced me to last week. So that just leaves another two."

"You can do that tomorrow, Elena." Caroline approached the desk, purse already hanging from her shoulder. "Besides, I could use a ride home, and you got the wheels."

Elena rolled her eyes but grinned.

"Have Baker take you home. You are not far away. By the time he swings back through, I will be ready."

"You sure?"

"Positive. Twenty minutes tops."

"Okay, better be." Caroline headed back towards the door.

"Oh, Caroline."

Caroline turned, brows up, waiting for what was next.

"Um, could you pull the team together tomorrow?" Elena licked her lips and met her questioning eyes. "Geena, Connor, Bill, you, and me."

Caroline walked back to the desk slowly, a frown on her face.

"Why do we need your manager, publicist and the lawyer, Elena? What is going on?"

"We will talk about it tomorrow, okay?" Elena tried to reassure Caroline with her smile, but it was so phony it probably did nothing to put her friend at ease.

"If there is something we need to handle, then—"

"Tomorrow, Caroline." Elena dropped the smile and put on her "I mean it" face. "It will keep until tomorrow. Just see when they can swing by to chat and make it happen, okay?"

Both of them had been together too long for Elena's flimsy assurances to assuage Caroline's concerns, but Elena was not prepared tonight to go into the scandal that was about to capsize her life. It would be hard enough tomorrow, because what turned her life upside down rippled through all of theirs. The concern on Caroline's face, in her eyes, only deepened, but she knew Elena was done discussing it, so she went.

Even so, when Caroline left, the thickening silence in Elena's office pressed against her ears, squeezing away the peace of mind company manufactures. When Caroline and Elena's small staff buzzed around the office, the laughter and conversation and energy cloaked her fear and camouflaged her uncertainty. With them gone, Damon gone, just her here alone—the quiet exposed all, and she couldn't hide from her own unease.

Elena stood, walking around and doing what she had always done to settle her nerves. Shaking her hands like she was about to dive into the water for a race or climb in the boat for a regatta. As an athlete, she had all these little rituals to prepare for competition: doing a hundred jumping jacks, eating one of Millie's Denver omelettes, and, of all things, clipping her nails. But there was no ritual to prepare for the standoff that was coming with Liam. She leaned against her desk, rubbing the back of her neck where all her tension seemed to gather.

She heard a sound in the outer office, and she lifted her head.

"Caroline, I told you I'm fine," Elena called out with a small smile. "Go on home."

Footsteps approached her office, confident and heavier than Caroline's. For a moment, Elena's heart lifted just the smallest little bit, irrationally hoping that by some miracle Damon was here.

"Damon?" The name slipped past her lips before her brain reminded her that Damon was indeed in South Africa. He called her from there today.

"Is that who you are sleeping with now, Elena? Damon Salvatore?"

What a betrayal of hope. Not Caroline. Not Damon. It was the man from her nightmares. The man whose handsome face and plastic smile disguised the lecherous violence Shaunti Miller experienced. That Elena experienced.

Liam closed his office door behind him, and the sound of it clicking locked landed in her chest like a live grenade. The pin had been pulled, and it was only a matter of time before it blew. Elena's composure disintegrated under his stare, which mesmerized her like a snake poised to strike. The venom was in his eyes, and it paralyzed her, just as surely as if it was rushing through her bloodstream, attacking her central nervous system. Her limbs locked, her breath seizing in her throat.

In the space of two blinks, Liam was across the room standing right in front of Elena, pushing the hair back from her face almost tenderly. His hands landed on the desk before Elena could move, long arms bracketing her hips, trapping her body between his tall frame and the desk.

"Elena Gilbert." His breath, cool and minty, settled over her lips. "It is good to see you again."

Elena cautiously straightened from the desk, but Liam didn't move, so the motion pressed their chests together. She couldn't struggle with this man, not with Jell-O in her knee caps and cotton in her mouth, so she settled back against the desk, creating a sliver of space between them.

"How did you get in here?" Her voice came out calm and low, no hint of the fear prickling her insides.

"Oh, I just took the elevator. My security detail is in your reception area, if you are concerned about that." His firm lips quirked. "We are safe in here."

Trapped in a room with a powerful man who raped her, who raped others, and the only security was here to protect him. Elena had never felt less safe. She stared back at him, making no sound or moves. She hated that fear paralyzed her, but she couldn't help it. The last time they were alone together, he tied her wrists, pried her legs apart, and ruptured her from the inside out. She thought those years of therapy cured her of this, but she had fooled herself. She was as frightened as she was on prom night. She was just better at hiding it.

"What do you want, Liam?"

"What a loaded question." A thin layer of lust filmed his eyes as they ran up and then down her body. "So many possibilities with a woman like you."

"What do you want, Liam?" It sounded no less confident when Elena repeated it, and it was no less a lie than the first time she said it.

One of the hands trapping her moved to her waist and slithers down to cup her ass. Everything in Elena rejected his touch. The hairs on her neck stood on end. Her skin pebbled with goose bumps. Her stomach heaved, but she was afraid if she moved, Liam would hurt her, jerk her, and she couldn't invite his violence. Her strength failed her against him before, and she was afraid to test it again.

"Your father tells me there is some confusion about what happened between us that night all those years ago." He dipped his head until his lips brushed against her cheekbone. "We need to deal with that."

Liam was actually here to silence her. His balls were actually big enough that he came into her office to intimidate her, to charm her the way he did the public, to convince her that she was confused. She craned her neck away from him, doing her best to escape his lips, his breath, his words.

"There is no confusion, Liam." Elena forced herself to meet the veiled malevolence of his stare. "How could there be when we both know you raped me?"

Liam inched forward, pressing his arms tighter against Elena, making sure she knew he had her caged. Nausea roiled in her stomach and flooded her mouth with water as his erection pressed between her legs. As much as she was trying to disguise it, he sensed her fear, and it was turning him on. He leaned into her ear, his whisper burning her skin like acid.

"I didn't rape you, bitch. The way I remember it, you begged for it. I was your first, and there's a certain attachment to the man who pops your cherry." He laughed gruffly. "The way I remember it, when I told you I didn't want anything more than that one night, you threatened me with lies about rape. When you never followed through, I assumed you had come to your senses. I was dismayed when your father warned me today that you haven't come to your senses at all."

His words sledgehammered Elena. Her parents wanted to believe that lie so they could move forward with their agenda. In some corner of her heart, the last hope for support from her parents faded to dust.

"You really are something, though." Liam squeezed her ass, his breath releasing in a hiss. "I take a certain pride in knowing I had you first. I have never forgotten how tight you were that night. How wet you were for me."

"I wasn't wet for you, bastard," Elena spitted back. "I was so dry I bled when you rammed that tiny dick inside of me."

His eyes ignited with the violence he suppressed. His nostrils flared with it. The hand cupping her ass clenched into a fist, dragging her closer until his hardness dug into her thigh. If he could punch her in the face, he would. But he was smart enough not to leave any marks, smart enough not to say anything incriminating.

"I bet you wouldn't bleed now, would you, Elena?" Liam pumped his hips slowly into her. Elena jerked back, pushing against his arms on either side of her, but they didn't budge. "I may have been your first, but I certainly wasn't your last, was I? It must have been good because it really whets your appetite."

He licked behind her ear, laughing when she gagged.

"Who is going to believe a whore like you was raped by a man like me?"

Elena couldn't stand like this with him another second. The last time they fought, he won. Everything in her resisted the thought of another losing struggle, but she had to risk it. She shoved at his chest, pushing him back just enough to lift her knee and ram it into the bulge in his pants. Liam doubled over, blue eyes watering with pain. She rushed around behind her desk, rustling through the drawer until she found a letter opener. He stumbled towards her, face still red, lips yanked back with a growl.

"I wouldn't if I were you." Elena cocked her arm back, letter opener gripped tightly in her fist. "This will hurt a lot worse than my knee, and when I'm done you certainly won't be raping anyone else because that dick of yours will be tossed out my window into the street where it belongs."

"Bitch."

"You mentioned that." A calm, foreign but real, settled over her. Wrapped around her until she actually managed to smile at her assailant.

"You can't stop me." Elena chuckled, leaning forward across her desk to taunt him with her eyes. With this irrational confidence. "You are the one with everything to lose, Liam. Not me."

"We will see about that." His lips peeled back, showing his teeth like an alligator. "Seems to me you have someone to lose now."

Her smile held, but her heart stopped. Damon. Elena knew that was who Liam meant.

"We found all kinds of shit on you, of course," Liam said, speaking easier now, his colour returning to normal. "But him? Clean as a whistle. Not even a parking ticket."

Elena swallowed, her smile melting away.

"I will tell you right now, I got nothing on Damon Salvatore, but your shit will chase him away." He grinned. "You had twenty years to close the deal with Aaron and you never could, and he can't hold a candle to this guy. This one? Oh, he is a saint compared to Aaron. You think he will stay once the whole world sees what a slut you are? You think he wants that shit sticking to him?"

His grin dropped, eyes almost earnest.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Elena. Just tell me what you really want here, and it doesn't have to get so ugly. This can all go away. You can go on with your life. I will be New York's next senator, and your father will be a very happy man. I will make sure of that. Just don't come out with this ridiculous story."

 _I tell my story every chance I get. Every time I do, I raise a fist against my oppressors._

Halima's words, her battle cry, rose up to squash what was left of Elena's fear and uncertainty.

"You raped me and you raped Shaunti Miller, and God knows who else," Elena said, not even a lump in her throat. "And you are going to pay for it. By the time I'm done, you won't even get elected PTA president."

Liam's eyes narrowed to reptilian slits, his lips falling back to bare his teeth at her. His face went stony, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"Why you little—"

"And I bet there is someone out there you have raped who still has a criminal case against you." Elena leaned forward, fists resting on her desk, letter opener trapped in hand. "You asked me what I want. I want you to rot in prison, you miserable bastard."

His hand raised like he might strike her, but he caught himself and ran that hand over his perfectly coiffed hair.

"I would take that hit, Liam, to have proof of your brutality, so go ahead." Elena tilted her chin, offering her cheekbone to him. "Hit me like you did that night. You think I have forgotten the bruises I had the next day?"

"You are crazy if you think anyone will believe you over me." Disdain dripped from his laugh. "Me, an upstanding citizen, a family man with a spotless record, or you, the slutty model who spreads her legs for Playboy and any man who will crawl into her bed?"

"We will just have to see, won't we? We will have to see if your hollow marriage to your sweet wife is enough to get you out of rape allegations from one of the most famous women in the world."

Liam went white beneath his fake tan.

"If you want to walk away from this unscathed," he said, "stop before you start."

A chuckle gurgled in Elena's throat, spilling into the tension of the room.

"You may be the political darling in your little neck of the woods, Liam, but I'm one of the most recognizable faces in the world. You can't just make me disappear."

"Everything you have worked for will be destroyed. You will be a laughingstock."

"You first, Liam."

"Bitch."

"Son of a bitch," Elena fired back. "You can't do anything to me that hasn't already been done. That is the advantage of living the way I have. Everyone knows everything. I'm not Shaunti, and you can't intimidate me."

Elena strode past him to the door, legs no longer trembling. She unlocked and opened the door, peering into the reception area, where two oversize men in dark suits sat flipping through magazines. She looked back to Liam, still standing by her desk, crimson crawling out of his collar and over his cheekbones.

"Get out of my damn office." She shifted her weight from one stiletto to the other, grabbing her cell phone from her pocket when Liam made no move to comply. "Get out now, or I'm calling the cops."

When Elena mentioned the cops, the two gorillas by Gil's desk stood and stepped forward. Liam crossed the office with swift strides, but slowed and stopped in front of her.

"Your parents don't even believe you. What makes you think anyone else will?"

He didn't give her the chance to respond, which was probably good because she had no comeback for that. Her own mother was against her. Her own father threatened her. With that thought hanging over her head, and Liam and his gorillas gone, Elena looked around the office and realized she was still well and truly alone.


	25. Chapter 25

Elena was in the privacy of her own home with Caroline, her closest friend, nearby. Her trusted team members—the lawyer, manager, and publicist who had been with her most of her career—sat just a few feet away. She should feel at ease. But how could she when one huge eye—the camera—opened up her home to millions of strangers, belying the illusion of privacy. Maybe her whole life had been an illusion of privacy, and this thing with Liam would just expose the public as cruel voyeurs who watched and pointed and ridiculed.

Or maybe they would believe her. Maybe they would sympathize. Maybe they would be kinder than she expected them to be.

"You ready?" Karen Sims perched on the edge of Elena's sofa.

"Is that a rhetorical, it's-too-late-to-turn-back-now kind of question?" Elena asked. "Or do you mean am-I-ready-right-now-to-do-this kind of question?"

"I think the latter." Karen laughed a little, something Elena hadn't seen her do much in the last few days as they prepared for this. "It is not too late you know. This is a huge step, and it is a risk, Elena. No one would think less of you for not doing it."

That was a lie. Elena would think less of herself. Meeting Shaunti made her wonder who else Liam had tied up and jacked off on and bitten. Who else had he humiliated and left broken? She got into counselling immediately and put herself back together. That night was a distant memory for Elena, but what if there was a woman out there for whom it was a fresh nightmare she kept playing over and over in her head? What if she was afraid to come forward? What if, like Halima said, her hurt could help?

"And someone wants to speak to you." Karen proffered her phone, a small smile softening her thin lips.

Elena took the phone and said hello tentatively.

"Hi, Elena," Shaunti said from the other end.

"Shaunti, hi." It was irrational, but tears sprung to Elena's eyes at the sound of Shaunti's voice.

"I'm room mother today and my son has a game this afternoon. Too much to make it into the city and back in time," Shaunti said in a rush. "But I wanted you to know how much I appreciate this. I really wanted to do it, but when you love someone, sometimes you have to put them first. Above everything. And I just couldn't expose my husband and son to what Liam's team had planned."

"Shaunti, you don't have to explain." Elena blink furiously, determined not to ruin Caroline's perfect cat eye with tears. "I was just sitting here thinking that if I had spoken up ten years ago…"

Elena's voice was so dampened by tears of regret and guilt, she couldn't get words out for a second. She cleared her throat and tried to finish.

"If I had spoken up ten years ago, maybe none of that would have happened to you."

"Don't take on guilt that is all Liam's," Shaunti said, her voice tightening. "We are taking him down, Elena, and you are the key. I have to go, but just wanted to wish you the best, and to say thank you."

"That actually means a whole lot to me, Shaunti. Thanks."

Shaunti hung up, and Elena just held the phone for a few seconds like it was still emitting strength from miles away, and she could just absorb the conviction she heard in Shaunti's voice if she kept holding it.

"You ready?" Karen extended her hand for the phone.

"I'm ready." Elena fluffed her hair around her shoulders, smoothing the simple brown dress she and Caroline agonized over. Brown had become her signature colour because it matched her eyes and her hair. It felt ludicrous debating her dress colour considering the weight of this broadcast, but Caroline and Geena insisted they went with green. Caroline and Geena cared about it. Elena could be wearing plaid burlap for all she cared right now.

Caroline walked over to add a touch more lipstick, her hand trembling as she applied it. She blinked furiously, tears standing in her eyes.

"Hey." Elena grabbed her hand, pulling her to sit down beside her. "You okay?"

"Am I okay?" Caroline strangled a laugh in her throat. "You walk around for ten years with this hanging over your head. You are about to take on this monster, and you are asking if I'm okay? Yeah, I'm fine, Elena. Just peachy. How about you?"

"Look, I know you—"

"You could have told me," Caroline cut in, hurt and anger cocktailing in her eyes. "You should have told me. I'm your best friend. How could you not tell me?"

"I didn't tell anyone, Caroline." Elena squeezed her friend's hand. "I wanted to put it behind me. I fooled myself into thinking I could just walk away, but it doesn't work that way."

Caroline nodded, glancing around surreptitiously.

"Did you tell them that he came to the office?" Her quiet words rose only as far as Elena's ears.

Elena glanced at everyone in the room before returning her eyes to Caroline.

"No, and I don't want to. It won't help. He was a jerk, but he didn't admit to anything. Didn't incriminate himself any further. And it is just more of what we already have. More of my word against his. I'm set on doing this. He didn't change that."

"But you will tell Damon, right?"

Elena pulled her lips into her mouth, releasing a deep breath through her nose.

"I'm not sure. We will see."

"You should tell him." Caroline stiffened her lips in that stubborn way Elena hated. "Tell him or I will."

"You wouldn't." Elena aimed a glare at her friend that seemed to bounce right off. "This isn't the best time to discuss this, Caroline. I'm about to tell the whole world Liam Davis has raped me. Can we talk—"

"You are right." Caroline patted Elena's shoulder, her eyes softer. "You focus on this. Get through this, and we will talk about it later."

Elena smiled faintly when Caroline stood. The last thing she wanted to do was tell Damon. Clearly Liam knew Damon was her weakness and would love to see him involved in any way he could. He wanted to drag Damon into this however he could. It would be hard enough for her to see this through without worrying that Damon would be hurt in the process.

Her lawyer, Connor, walked over, squatting in front of her and taking her fingers in his bigger hand. He was not exactly a father figure to her. He was only in his mid-forties, but definitely avuncular. He was as honest as Abe and a shark when he needed to be on her behalf, but never with her.

"Just stick to what is on the teleprompter," he said. "We have all agreed on that statement. It tells the truth, but doesn't give everything away yet. We need to roll this information out carefully."

"Teleprompter, got it." Elena glanced at the large screen mounted above the camera with the words scrolling as Geena checked the statement one last time.

"Okay, let's do it then," Karen said.

At Elena's very first photo shoot, she realized that she loved the camera. Everyone said it loved her back, and she was counting on that today. The nausea churning her stomach, the sweat slicking her palms, the anxiety like a studded choker around her neck—all fell away as soon as soon as that camera went live.

"Hello, I'm Elena Gilbert." Elena's hand laid relaxed in her lap. "Many of you know me from magazines, or the runway, or ads for your favourite perfume and clothes. I have been very fortunate to find success as a model over the last ten years. Modelling has made my life very public, but there is one thing I have never talked about publicly until now."

She drew a deep breath, knowing that once these words left her mouth, she couldn't take them back. Once she levelled these accusations at one of the country's most powerful men, she couldn't rewind.

And he would come after her.

When Elena thought of how he hurt her that night—stole her virginity and stripped her of her dignity—and did the same thing to Shaunti and God knows who else, there was only one thought singing through her head.

 _Bring it._

 _Bring it on._

"Ten years ago it was my high school prom night," Elena continued. "I was nervous and excited. There were pictures and dancing. All the things you hope your prom will be. I had no idea that it would be one of the worst nights of my life. That night, my date raped me."

She paused to swallow, the word "rape" curdling on her tongue.

"It was the most humiliating night of my life, and there are some things I have blocked, things I have tried to forget, but I remember who did it."

Elena tipped her chin up an extra inch, eyes locked on the camera like it was a person right there she had to convince.

"It was Liam Davis, one of the leading candidates in next year's U.S. Senate race. I know many will wonder why now. Why, after ten years of silence, I have decided to come forward. I held back for the same reasons so many other women do. Fear. Shame. I was unsure that people would believe me. I was young and scared then, and trusted the wrong man. Last week someone else made this accusation, and seeing that person's courage spurred me to come forward, even after all this time."

The line on the teleprompter said that she should be saying thank you and wrapping it up, but she couldn't. Despite what Connor told her about sticking to the script, there was something she had to say that wasn't written on that screen.

"And if there is anyone out there who might feel what I was feeling. Afraid. Ashamed. Unsure." Elena looked down at her lap before returning her eyes to the camera. "Humiliated and dirty because this man did the same thing to you, I want you to know that if you come forward, I will stand with you. When this happened, I felt for a while like everything that mattered about me was taken away, but I was wrong. I have my voice. I have truth, and no one can take that."

She narrowed her eyes at the camera.

"Don't let him take that from you."

Now Elena was not sure how to finish after her detour, so she went back to the line that was paused and flashing for her to read.

"That is all I have to say for now. Thank you for your time."

x x x

Elena knew her announcement would make a splash, but she really had no idea it would be of "break the Internet" proportions. She found herself the centre of a storm of her own making, but over which she had no control. Liam's camp fired back literally within minutes of her video with denials and prepared statements. Her parents had made no contact, other than a regretful message from Baker indicating that he had been told she was no longer a part of his responsibility to the Gilbert family and would need to find other means of transportation. Elena guessed that was her parents' way of disowning her.

Liam's team had already resurrected the most scandalous of her exploits: the affair with a married man—homewrecker. The picture Elena knew could be out there somewhere, of her snorting a line of cocaine during Paris Fashion Week years ago—druggie. The two guys who claimed they had a threesome on that tequila-drenched night that she barely remembered—whore. And, of course, her infamous Playboy spread—exhibitionist.

 _Mine._

Damon said that was the only label she needed to worry about, but every day a new label was slapped on her back, each one weighing more than the last. Elena wished Damon was here, but she would never ask him to miss the Collective meetings so crucial to his future.

Every speck of dirt from her past Liam's team could dredge up, they had. None of it was new, but one incident piled on another heaped on another had many people sceptical about the validity of her claims. It was definitely her word against his. Liam's trotting out his devoted wife, their two kids, along with all the work he had done "for the community" over the years, made him look like a responsible, upstanding citizen and Elena looked like a promiscuous, privileged wild child living a life so far beyond what the average woman could imagine, she just might find it hard to relate to Elena. Or worse, to believe her.

 _Well played, Liam Davis. Well played,_ Elena thought.

She was sure it all hurt. Her parents' condemning silence and all the accusations, the slurs virtually flung at her from Liam's conservative supporters, the bloggers speculating. It probably all hurt when each blow landed on her, but one thing Elena had learned to do over the years like an evolutionary defence mechanism was to thicken her skin as needed. Only this time, the skin had grown so thick so fast, she couldn't feel anything. Even the support many rape advocates had expressed didn't help much because she couldn't feel that either. She guessed she was numb. She was really just afraid Liam had a knife up his sleeve so sharp it would slice through those inches of protective layers, and she would feel everything, and all at once, so deeply, she wouldn't be able to stand.

"You ready for this?" Caroline asked across from Elena in the backseat of the car they were sharing.

"Huh?" Elena looked up from her phone to see Caroline frowning.

"Stop reading those posts, Elena. Liam has those bloggers and reporters in his pocket, so of course they will take his side. There is a whole other group of folks already calling for him to withdraw from the race. Two women in two weeks accusing him of rape has hurt his image and his chances."

Caroline grabbed Elena's purse and iPad from the floor, handing them to her.

"You are making headway, so keep your chin up, honey."

Caroline flicked her head towards the quaint Tribeca brownstone where Elena's next meeting would take place.

"You sure you will be okay in there alone?"

"You mean without my guard dog?" Elena met the driver's eyes in the rear-view mirror. They had compromised a little on security, using one of the guys guarding her to double as a driver. She persuaded Caroline she would be okay inside this meeting without him, and that he could drive her on to the office.

"Miraculously, I don't think we have been followed," Elena reassured her friend. "And even if we have, I can manage the ten steps between the sidewalk and the front door without being attacked."

"Get in there and close the deal with Kerris." Caroline glanced back to the brownstone where Aaron grew up and now lived with his family. "We all really love her stuff and want it on Retreat's site."

"And you are afraid I will what?" Elena had smiled so little the last few days, her lips barely remembered how to do it, but they managed. "Claw her eyes out?"

"No, you two have some history, I know," Caroline said. "But your head is in the game, and she is a sweetheart."

"Must be nice for people to think you are a sweetheart." Elena twistede her lips and sighed. "Something I definitely won't be mistaken for anytime soon."

Caroline sniffed the air.

"Is that self-pity I smell?" She wrinkled her nose. "I wouldn't think a woman with her own fragrance would abide a scent so foul."

"It is not my fragrance. It is François's, and it is not self-pity." Elena slumped into the backseat. "I'm just feeling a little sorry for myself."

"Ahhhh." Caroline nodded her head sagely. "I see the subtle difference between the two. Look, nobody said this would be easy, but do you think it will be worth it?"

"I know it will."

Caroline tough-love face softened.

"Then just endure." She reached over to tuck a chunk of hair behind Elena's ear. "And just think. Your new man will be back soon. Bet that will make things better, right?"

Or worse. The only thing worse than all this public tarring and feathering from Liam's supporters and his crafty team would be Damon having a front-row seat for it. Or even worse than that worse, him being tainted by it.

"He will be home in, like, four days."

"You guys talk every day?"

"For a little bit." Elena swiped through screens on her iPad looking for Kerris's designs. "There is a six-hour time difference, and his schedule there trying to sort out that Collective mess is even crazier."

"Well, once he is back in your bed, you will feel better for sure." Caroline sneaked a look at Elena. "I mean, you guys have…you know. Sealed the deal. Dipped the stick, right?"

Now Elena did grin.

"I'm not talking about this with you."

Elena had always been extremely forthcoming with Caroline about her sex life. Once she even sketched a guy's junk for her friend when she realized he was uncircumcised. So, yeah. No holds had ever been barred until now. With Damon…Elena just couldn't. It was so different with him. So intimate. So clean. So right. Talking about it like they were in a locker room would defile it somehow.

"You know I live vicariously through your vagina." Caroline grimaced, and rightfully so. "That came out wrong, but you know what I mean. Just tell me if he is as hung as he seems to be. I mean, a guy that big has got to be hanging pretty low, right?"

Elena gathered her things, shaking her head the whole time. She reached for the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, drawing her cashmere coat a little closer against the wind. She leaned into the car for a parting shot.

"I will only say that he delivers on the promise his body makes."

As Elena slammed the door, she heard Caroline screeching.

"I knew it!"

Elena was still grinning when the door opened to Kerris standing there. There was a time when she pretended not to see what Aaron saw in this girl, but she did. Kerris was petite and beautiful, with dark hair and a sweet nature. The opposite of Elena in every way, inside and out.

She was also very pregnant. That belly looked much too large for her small frame.

"Are you having twins again?" Elena blurted out, regretting it immediately. She couldn't believe she was one of those people who said insensitive things to pregnant women. Next she would be feeling up her belly in the grocery store.

Kerris laughed good-naturedly, stepping back to allow mElena into their home.

"Um, no. Just one this time." She passed her hand over that mound of baby, a small smile on her mouth. "One little boy due any day now, but maybe he is just a big guy like his daddy."

She searched Elena's eyes, looking contrite. At first Elena couldn't figure out why, but then she realized Kerris must think this was her dream. To be home with two of Aaron's kids and another on the way in the brownstone where he grew up. No, this wasn't what Elena envisioned for Aaron and herself. She certainly wouldn't have answered her own door. She would have help for that. She wouldn't have dinner going, the house fragrant with her domesticity. She would have some version of Millie for that. As for the kids…who knew how having children would have affected her?

"It is okay, Kerris." Elena walked deeper into the house, stopping by the bannister that led upstairs. "I'm good and over Aaron. I realize now that if we had gotten married, we would have basically become our parents. He would have become his father, working around the clock and neglecting his family. I would have become my mother, glad to see the back of him and probably living a separate life."

Elena looked back to Aaron's sweet little wife in her maternity skinny jeans and a simple tunic blouse. This place, with its shiny floors and little baby gate at the top of the stairs, the smell of something already cooking for dinner, showed Elena Kerris was exactly what a man like Aaron needed. This house—she—must be a haven for Aaron after the cutthroat world he occupied all day. For a man who never wanted to grow up to be like his father, he married a woman who would make sure he never did.

"I practically grew up here, too, you know." Elena tapped her shoe over a familiar nick in the floor. "Aaron and I used to slide down this banister like monkeys."

She opened her mouth widely enough for Kerris to closely examine her front tooth.

"I actually chipped my tooth here doing that." she laughed, tapping the tooth in question. "Mother was furious. We got it fixed the next day, of course, but Aaron teased me for the longest."

"I never realized that you and Aaron were…" Kerris trailed off, searching for the word.

"Friends?" Elena nodded. "Yeah, even though my parents wanted us to be the cornerstone of the Whitmore dynasty, and convinced me that I wanted that, too, we were friends first. Aaron has always been good to me."

"He is furious that your father isn't supporting you against Liam Davis." Kerris's face showed her sympathy, her concern. "I'm sorry, by the way. I knew there was a reason that man made my skin crawl."

She lifted her hands for the coat Elena was sliding from her shoulders, hanging it on a vintage-looking coat tree tucked into a corner of the foyer. She walked back to Elena, hands slid into her back pockets and expression hesitant.

"I, um…well, I just wanted to say our situations are different, obviously," she said. "But I know what it feels like to be violated, Elena The man who hurt me had been dead for years by the time I spoke out. The man who hurt you is not only still alive, but powerful and prominent, with many people supporting him. I think what you are doing is incredibly brave."

Elena had never heard Kerris's full story, but she knew Kerris spoke from time to time for the Whitmore Foundation about being molested as a child. _She is sorry for me?_ Elena thought. She couldn't imagine the things Kerris endured so young.

"I appreciate that, Kerris." Something lodged in Elena's throat. Maybe it was the crow she needed to eat. "Look, I know you and I have never been on friendly terms. I was a bit of a bitch to you. Old habits die hard."

They both laughed at Elena's admission, and Elena wondered if one day they could be friends. She didn't have many of those. Never had, but she sure could use some in this three-ring circus.

"But it is obvious that you make Aaron happy," Elena continued. "And believe it or not, ultimately, that makes me happy. This is probably as close to apologizing as I will get, by the way."

Kerris met her eyes, a fractional smile settling on her lips.

"Wow, Elena." She toyed with a slim necklace hanging at her throat. "I never thought I would see the day when you almost apologized."

They laugh again, and Elena felt things loosen between them a little more.

"I gladly accept your almost apology." Still smiling, Kerris gestureed towards what used to be, and Elena assumed still was, the kitchen. "Let me check on this stew I have got going, and then we can head downstairs to my studio. The girls' nap is over in about an hour, and nothing gets done once they are up. They are tyrants, both of them."

"It smells delicious."

Elena sniffed the air appreciatively, sitting at the farmhouse table a stone's throw from the island and counters that made up Kerris's work space. She remembered Kristeene Whitmore's kitchen as warm and cozy, but dark. They had renovated, adding a skylight that ushers in natural light to brighten the space.

"I know I'm totally the housewife stereotype, Crock-Pot and all." Kerris lifted the lid, stirring the savory-smelling stew. "But I'm a country girl. That is never going to change. Aaron had them install a small greenhouse on the roof, so I grow my own vegetables. All the veggies in here were grown right over our heads."

The distance between the wife Elena would have been to Aaron and the wife he needed continued to grow. Pictures of their girls, Brooklin and Harlim, decorated the refrigerator. Framed finger paintings held a place of pride on one wall. A toy bin in the corner rested on a rug, and Elena could imagine the twins playing there while Kerris prepared dinner. It was a scene, a life of domesticity Elena was not sure she could ever achieve.

Only…something felt good about it. Looks were deceiving because Kerris, in spite of her modesty, was anything but the typical housewife. She owned a thriving high-end thrift store back in North Carolina and had someone like Elena here courting her to design jewelry. It was apparent, though, that this was her first love. This life with Aaron and her children, it was her first priority. Elena never saw this, not in her home and not with her friends growing up. Aaron at least had Kristeene for a mother, and a greater woman one would never find. She probably planted the seed for this vision in Aaron's head.

A peace deepened inside Elena as that dream her parents planted gasped its final breath, dying right here in the kitchen where Kristeene used to serve Aaron and her banana bread after school. There was no doubt in her mind she could never have satisfied Aaron. And honestly, he probably could never have satisfied her. He didn't want her enough, and she realized now, experiencing the way Damon wanted her, and for the reasons he did, how it felt to be wanted and prioritized that much, that way. She didn't know that she could ever settle for less than that again.

"Come on down to the studio." Kerris washed her hands, drying them on a towel draped over the oven handle. "I will show you the pieces I have been working on."

The jewelry was as delicate and unique as its creator. Several pieces laid on the windowsill, drying and in various stages of completion.

"I would buy this right now." Elena touched a bangle studded with rough stones. "I love all of these, Kerris. You are really talented."

"Coming from you, that means a lot." A blush appeared over Kerris's high cheekbones. "Thank you."

"I mean it. I'm pretty stingy with compliments." Elena grinned to remove any possible sting from her comment. "So how would you like to be a Retreat artisan?"

"Your assistant gave me a little of an overview." Kerris sat down on her workbench, gesturing for Elena to do the same. "But tell me more."

Elena unpacked the Retreat vision for Kerris the way she did for Damon, including the charitable efforts and future plans to expand into clothing, household items, and furniture.

"That is amazing, Elena." New respect crept into Kerris's eyes. "I kind of always thought you were just a pretty face."

"Oh, I am a pretty face." Elena tapped her finger to her temple. "I'm just also very smart. I keep that a secret because if girls knew I had that going for me, too, I would have even fewer friends."

Kerris laughed, shaking her head.

"That is sadly true in a lot of ways," she said. "Okay, I'm in. What is the next step?"

"You're in?" Elena clapped her hands, a wide grin taking over. "That is great. I'm thinking we call your line K. Whitmore for Retreat. Whaddaya think?"

"I love that." Excitement lit Kerris's face and eyes. "Let's do it."

They talked through a few details, both sketching ideas on a pad on Kerris's worktable. Elena's phone dinged with a text. She grimaced when she read the message.

"Everything okay?" Kerris returned a few of the pieces back to the windowsill.

"My guard dog was just letting me know he is back." Elena slipped the phone into her purse. "He dropped Caroline off at the office and is outside when I'm ready. Apparently a few reporters somehow got wind of the fact that I'm here and are outside. Sorry about that."

"Don't even worry about it. Has it been awful?" Kerris asked. "I mean, I know some of his supporters have been especially…"

"Vicious?" Elena finished for her. "Yeah, they have, but no one has actually threatened me or walked up to me saying awful things. Mostly online. There has been a lot of support, too. The security is just a precaution."

"I heard you have one person's support you can absolutely count on." A teasing smile played at the corners of Kerris's mouth. "Damon Salvatore."

"Does Aaron tell you everything?" Elena complained, mock exasperation in hervoice.

"Pretty much." Kerris laughed, walking towards the door, allowing Elena to leave ahead of her before turning off the light.

Something occured to Elena. She had never thought there was much she could learn from a girl like Kerris. They nothing alike. Their priorities lived on different planets, but Kerris made it work with a man from a completely different background, who grew up driven by completely different things. They figured it out and had one of the happiest relationships Elena had seen.

"Let me ask you something," Elena said as they climbed the stairs to the kitchen on the main level.

"Ask away." Kerris straddled the bench at the farmhouse table, facing Elena. "And take a load off."

Elena sat, resting her elbows on the table before turning her head to look at Kerris squarely.

"You mentioned Damon Salvatore." Elena passed her hand over her hair, feeling a little self-conscious. "We are…seeing each other, like you said, even though we are keeping it kind of quiet. We are just so different. The press is even calling us the Sinner and the Saint."

"Oh, gosh. Why can't people be as interested in their own lives as they are in everyone else's?"

"Well said and preaching to the choir." Elena laughed a little. "How do you and Aaron make it work? I mean being so different."

"I let our differences keep us apart for a long time, as I'm sure you remember."

Kerris gave Elena a knowing look, probably because Elena exploited those differences to keep them apart in any small ways she could, too.

"I married Cam for all the wrong reasons," Kerris continued. "We had such similar backgrounds, grew up with the same struggles, even survived similar traumas, but in the end, none of that kept us together."

"So what does make it work?"

"This will sound like an oversimplified answer." Kerris leaned forward, her eyes serious. "But it is love. I love Aaron more than I knew I could love anything, and I'm absolutely confident he feels the same way about me."

She laughed, dipping and shaking her head, dark hair caressing her shoulder.

"Me, the girl who comes from nothing and no one, who doesn't even know her parents, ended up with a guy who comes from everything and a family that everyone knows."

"It didn't make sense to me either," Elena teased.

"I still pinch myself sometimes, that this is my life." Kerris waved her hand around the don't-be-fooled-by-the-quaint expensively outfitted kitchen. "Not all this. These are trappings. This isn't my life. My life is that man who works harder than anyone I have ever met, but tries to make it home in time to tuck in our girls. He doesn't always make it, but he wants to. He wants this life with me."

"But how does it work?"

"Because we want it to." Kerris twisted her wedding band and ring. "Because it has to. He is more important to me than I am to me, and I'm more important to him than he is to himself. We find ways to put each other first and to—even though we are so different—value the things that matter to the other. To make sure the other person is positioned to achieve what matters to them. Whether that is me creating a home for our family so Aaron can focus intensely on Augustine Enterprises, or him supporting my ventures and loving me unconditionally, making sure I'm fulfilled, too."

Her sweet mouth took on a hard curve.

"I know what it is like being in a bad marriage with someone who makes perfect sense." She shook her head. "Give me the challenges of making it work with someone who makes absolutely no sense, but I can't live without. It is that desperation that makes you fight for it because you realize you have no choice. The alternative is to be without Aaron, and I have done that. I found out that I can't do it. Or at least I never want to again. It is miserable, and you ache like half of you is missing. And it is missing because even though on the surface we are vastly different, he has my heart."

Elena was not sure what to say. The concept of loving someone so much that she put them first was almost completely foreign to her. It was not the operating system she saw in her parents' marriage when she was growing up.

A plaintive cry came across the monitor on the countertop. Kerris walked over and grabbed it, turning the volume down.

"That's Brooklin," Kerris said. "And Harlim will be next."

Sure enough another cry came more faintly over the monitor she was holding.

"Productivity is about to go down considerably." Kerris smiled. "You are welcome to stay for a while, though."

"No, I'm sure you are busy." Elena stood and they headed towards the foyer.

"Actually, it was nice talking to another adult." Kerris pulled Elena's coat from the coat tree in the corner. "With Mama Jess and Meredith still in Rivermont, and the girls consuming so much of my time, it has been hard to connect here in the city."

Mama Jess was like the mother Kerris never had, and Meredith was her best friend and co-owner of Déjà Vu, Kerris's shop in North Carolina. Elena could imagine the transition into New York society without them had been challenging. She took her coat, meeting Kerris's cautious glance with caution of her own.

"Maybe we could…" Kerris looked to the floor, then back up at her as the two cries, nearly indistinguishable from each other, reached them from upstairs.

When Elena didn't respond, but just stared at her blankly for a few seconds, Kerris walked her to the door, a polite smile in place of the openness Elena had seen from her over the last hour. She would have bet her favorite pair of Loubs that they would never be in this place, but she thought they were. Elena thought they were going to be friends one day. She turned from the open door to face Kerris briefly, giving her a small smile.

"Hey, Kerris?"

Kerris looked at her with raised eyebrows, half of her attention already up the stairs and in the nursery.

"Maybe we could."

Their eyes held for an extra second before Kerris nodded, smiled, and closed the door


	26. Chapter 26

Johannesburg was one of Damon's favourite cites in the world. It was gorgeous and cosmopolitan and sophisticated, but those weren't the qualities that drew him to South Africa's crown jewel. The dark, ugly shadow of apartheid could have defined this country forever. By all rights, it should have, but the courage and endurance of one unifying figure made something that seemed impossible a reality in a nation divided by hate and violence and prejudice—forgiveness. Of course it wasn't just Nelson Mandela who abolished apartheid, but every revolution needed a hero, and he was theirs. He led this nation in a revolution of healing, showing the world that they didn't have to be defined by their mistakes. They could be redeemed. They could do better.

As much as Damon loved this city, he wanted to be done with their business so he could get back to New York. Back to Elena. He couldn't help but think of the scandals of her past Liam's team had resurrected. She might not be leading a revolution, but what she was doing did take tremendous courage. She was risking a lot; taking hard blows to see if her hurt had the possibility to help. Wondering if her past mistakes made her irredeemable. Damon knew they didn't, and he was so damn proud of her.

He sipped from the glass at his elbow, savouring the Vergelegen V, one of his favourite wines from the famous Cape Town vineyard. He raised the glass in a toast to Rose. She had always made sure he had it when they were here.

"Is it good?" She sipped her merlot, eyeing him expectantly.

"Always." Damon flaked off some of the blackened panga, a South African fish seasoned with turmeric, cumin, and nutmeg, before turning his attention to the man joining Rose, Enzo, and him for dinner. "And your steak, Thurston? Good?"

"Very." He spoke between chews. "How did you think the meetings went today?"

Damon took his time answering, savouring every spicy bite.

"Satisfactory." Damon set his fork on the plate, giving this exchange his full attention. "I will be interested to see how some of the Collective members who have been around for a while respond to the transparency measures I outlined."

Thurston paused, fork hovering between his plate and his mouth.

"Maybe you don't know, but I am one of the original members of the Collective, Damon."

"I actually did know that, Thurston." Damon gave him stare for stare until he finally grinned, and Damon grinned back.

"I see." Thurston resumed eating, eyes sharp and set on Damon's face. "You are that rare man who doesn't deal in bullshit, Salvatore."

"I'm not sure that I'm rare," Damon said. "But you are right that I don't have much tolerance for bullshit, so tell me how you think the transparency measures will fare when we vote tomorrow."

Enzo and Rose exchanged nervous glances, but Damon's eyes never left Thurston's face.

"Why do I get the feeling this isn't the casual dinner I thought it would be?" Thurston asked.

"No harm in making conversation over a delicious meal." Damon leaned forward. "Thurston, you know as well as I do that the Collective can't afford another scandal if we are to maintain our corporate and philanthropic integrity. Members disclosing possible conflicts of interest and voluntarily submitting tax records, which are public anyway, are just a few ways we can protect the organization against corruption and self-interest, the very things we are fighting with most of these countries' leaders."

"And will you be disclosing information about your personal life, Damon?" Thurston's tone was casual, but his eyes remained sharp. "Rumour has it that you have been making some very, shall we say, interesting personal alliances lately."

Damon pushed his plate away, and set his elbows on the table, linking his hands into a shelf he rested his chin on.

"To what are you referring exactly, Thurston?"

"Well, is it true you are seeing Elena Gilbert?" Thurston dropped his eyes to the meal in front of him, conveniently avoiding Damon's direct stare.

"I'm the one who proposed the transparency measures, Thurston, and will be more than willing, of course, to fully cooperate within the confines of the requirements, which doesn't include who I'm seeing romantically."

"So you are romantic with Elena Gilbert?" Thurston looked up, eyes gleaming for a moment with a light that was all male. "She sure is something. I can't blame you. Few men could turn that down."

Damon would hate to bash Thurston over the head with the Michelangelo Hotel's fine china, but if he overstepped, he would.

"It is really no one's business who I'm seeing." Damon took another sip of his wine, using precious seconds to control his irritation with the direction this conversation had taken. "It has no bearing on my work with the Collective."

"Surely you are not that naïve, Damon." Thurston's cynical laugher irritated Damon even more. "Just be careful. It can't leave this table, but you are definitely the leading candidate to assume leadership. Everyone loves your ideas. It is apparent you have integrity and vision. Your business and personal record are above reproach. You are young and vibrant, which is something we need. I'm in your corner. That is why I tell you to be careful. Miss Gilbert has made a very powerful enemy. If you are involved with her, then so have you."

Damon was just about to tell Thurston what he and the rest of his cronies could do with their sage advice and inappropriate concern, but Enzo, who knew Damon too well, cut in.

"I'm sure the transparency measures will pass tomorrow," Enzo said. "It is good business practice and will go a long way toward restoring public faith that we remain committed to the best interests of the nations we have been tasked with serving."

Thurston and Damon locked eyes across their overpriced hotel food briefly before sharing a guarded smile. Rose further steered the conversation in a different direction with a few anecdotes from the last Collective gala, which eased more of the tension until they were all laughing, finishing their meal and considering dessert.

"None for me." Thurston stood, rebuttoning his suit coat. "I have to watch my youthful figure."

He shot Damon a grin, patting his stomach where it poked against his coat.

"We aren't all doing Ironmans in our spare time to keep fit."

Damon grinned back and wished him a good night.

"Did he just stick us with his bill?" Enzo looked from Thurston's scraped-clean plate to his departing back.

"Thurston's bill is the least of our worries." Rose sat straight as a line in her seat, folding her arms across her chest. "Did you hear what Thurston said, Damon?"

"Which part?" Damon kept his tone casual in the hope that this wasn't going where he suspected it would.

"Come on, Damon." Rose's eyes narrowed at the corners, her lips tightening. "We need to talk about this."

"No, Rose, we don't." Damon picked up the dessert menu, even though he was sated and didn't want another thing. He needed something to look at besides Rose's disapproving face.

"Rose, leave it alone." Enzo speared the last of his fish. He always was a slow eater.

"No, Enzo, this needs to be said." Rose turned her resolved expression Damon's way. "That woman is going to cost you everything, Damon."

Oh, hell. Damon didn't want to do this here. Now. Ever, really. He lowered the menu and met her concerned eyes.

"Rose, I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" It might be a question, but her expression already had the answer. "The man I have known for the last decade does not chase supermodels all over New York City."

"Rose," Enzo half protested.

"He doesn't risk everything he has worked for, we have worked for," she continued, "because a beautiful woman gives him some attention."

"Rose you have no idea what you are talking about." Damon kept his voice as even as he could with anger building in his chest like a brick wall. "Stick to the business at hand. The real business at hand, not my private life."

"And poor Andie!" Rose's eyes went wide and outraged. "To be exposed to that woman at the event last week."

"Exposed to?" Damon snapped. "Elena is not a virus, Rose, and you would best watch how you talk about her. And have you forgotten Andie and I broke up a year ago? Am I supposed to mope about it forever?"

"You broke the engagement, and for no good reason, so why would you be the one moping?"

"My reasons are my own and none of your business." Damon crushed the linen napkin in his fist, hoping it helped him control his temper. "Andie knows why we aren't together, and my reasons existed before I met Elena and still remain."

He leaned forward, fixing his eyes on his friend of more than ten years.

"What exactly do you dislike about her so much?" he asked. "That she is beautiful? That she posed nude? That she has been in high-profile relationships? I know women can be petty and jealous about her, but—"

"Jealous!" Derision twisted Rose's mouth. "That woman has nothing I want."

"Do you even know what she is in the middle of?" Damon demanded. "The allegations she is levelling against Liam Davis, the 'powerful enemy' Thurston referred to?"

"I'm sorry if what she says happened to her happened, but—"

"It did happen to her, Rose." Tension knotted the muscle in Damon's jaw.

"How do you know?" She tilted her head, eyebrows up. "What if it is just a scheme to get more attention? Like posing for Playboy? And did you know she had an affair with a married man? Someone's husband, Damon."

"She didn't know he was married."

"Is that what she told you?" Rose rolled her eyes, disgust marring her face. "And of course you believe her."

"The woman was raped." The volume of Damon's voice didn't rise, but his displeasure was inescapable.

"If it is true, I sympathize with her."

"Aren't you a feminist? A defender of women's rights? Women who have been subjected to injustices like FMG? Why would you, of all people, vilify the victim?"

"It is hard for me to see Elena as a victim, Damon. You can't compare her to someone like Halima."

Yet Halima recognized the same strength in Elena that Damon saw right away. He couldn't help but remember how she connected with Elena at the event, and he knew Rose was wrong about Elena.

"I know her, Rose."

"No, you are screwing her, Damon," Rose said. "There is a difference."

"That is enough, Rose," Enzo interjected harshly, eyes distressed. "Drop it before you say something you will regret."

"Oh, she already has." Damon leaned forward, colliding his eyes with Rose's. "You have been a faithful employee and a great friend, Rose, but if you ever talk about Elena that way again, things will have to change."

"You would choose that woman over your friends?" Hurt flooded Rose's eyes. "Over our friendship? You have known her what? All of two months? Been on a few dates?"

Damon's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he took it out to check the screen. He put an alert on Elena's name to keep abreast of what was developing back in the States. These Collective meetings had consumed his attention and focus almost completely. The brief snatches of conversation with Elena each day didn't come anywhere close to reassuring him that she was okay. And he suspected she was not telling him all that Liam's campaign was up to, how difficult they were making things for her.

"Damon, are you hearing me?" Rose asked.

Damon held up a finger, silently asking for a reprieve from their battle royal so he could peer at his screen. His teeth clenched at what he saw.

Model Behaviour: Details from a wild past continue to cast doubt on Elena Gilbert's allegations of misconduct by Liam Davis, frontrunner in next year's U.S. Senate race.

The video that accompanied the article only affirmed Damon's suspicions. Elena emerged from Jalene's barre studio to face a clump of reporters, throwing questions at her, snapping photos, pressing to get a better shot. The huge guy at Elena's back could barely fend off the mass of people for the short distance from the studio to the black SUV waiting at the curb. Elena's face remained composed even in the midst of the chaos. She slipped the hood of the sweatshirt she was wearing with her leggings over her head, concealing her face. His Princeton sweatshirt.

These meetings and the delicate nature of the transition of power had required an inordinate amount of focus. Damon had always been that guy who didn't have to be in charge, but usually found himself in that position nonetheless. And this week had been no different. Someone had to step into the leadership void left by Clarke's arrest. One thing he had never been was hesitant.

Seeing the firestorm now surrounding Elena in New York pushed him to the brink of that singular focus he had never had trouble maintaining. Frustration boiled beneath the surface of the face he kept expressionless. He wanted to be there for her, with her. He wanted to hold her and reassure her that she was doing the right thing, to make sure she was not swayed by the dirt Liam was hurling at her head. Damon wanted to be there.

And he would.

"I'm going back to New York." Damon flipped his phone facedown on the table and prepared himself for all the objections Rose would make that wouldn't change his mind.

"We all are in three days." Rose didn't look up from the dessert menu, but Damon knew he had her attention.

"I'm leaving tomorrow after our last meeting." Damon poured himself another glass of Vergelegen V. He needed it.

Enzo only nodded, pushing away his plate and picking up the dessert menu. Rose dropped her menu, eyes widen.

"You are leaving early? But why? We have more meetings over the next couple of days."

"All goodwill stuff. Checking on investments. Nothing new and nothing you two can't handle."

"You are seriously going back to New York?" She let out a scoffing laugh. "Weren't you the one saying you couldn't wait to be done with that city? Oh, let me guess. Now it holds a certain appeal."

"Have I ever missed a meeting I needed to be in?" Damon ran a steady hand over his face, exhaustion hitting him for the first time since they touched South African soil last week. "I'm tired, Rose. I have been going nonstop, and yes, I want to be there for Elena. You may not believe she was raped—"

"I didn't say I don't believe her," Rose said, her voice softer than it had been. "Her past just makes things awkward."

"Is it awkward that Liam Davis raped her when she was eighteen years old and she has lived with that secret for ten years?" Just thinking of the story Elena told Karen and Shaunti fanned Damon's anger, and he couldn't keep it out of his voice. "It took her years before she could even be touched by a man without…never mind. Elena doesn't owe you an explanation, so I'm not making one for her."

Damon stood to leave, stopped by Rose's staying hand on his arm.

"It is not that I don't sympathize," she said. "I do. I just don't want this fling to jeopardize everything you have worked for."

"Who says it is a fling, Rose? What if it is more? What if she is the one?"

Rose closed her eyes and shook her head.

"She is not, Damon. Not for a man like you."

It sounded so much like the nonsense Elena spouted before they left. Damon had to convince her that they were good together and that was all that counted, but he didn't have to convince Rose.

"I think we all need some space." Damon gently shook her hand from his arm. "You guys take the house for a few days when you get back. I'm sure you could use some time together without me around all the time."

"Damon, no." Enzo shifted his eyes from Damon to Rose. "It is your brother's house. You and Rose just need—"

"Some space, like I said." Damon pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants. "It will be business as usual in every other way."

"You don't have to do that, Damon." Rose swallowed and blinked back tears. "I'm only trying to help. You know I love you like a brother, and I only want the best for you. I always want the best for you."

Damon bent to kiss her head, squeezing her shoulder when she leaned into him.

"I know, Rose." He straightened and looked from her to Enzo. "But you don't see what I see."

"And what is that?" Rose asked, voice still watery with her tears.

"Elena is what is best for me."

Rose dropped her forehead to her fist, eyes closed.

"I will see you guys when you get back."

And with that, Damon left the dining room, already feeling lighter because he knew tomorrow he would be exactly where he needed to be.


	27. Chapter 27

Elena thought work would offer an escape, and it did distract her from the pandemonium some, but she could lose herself for only so long before the situation with Liam poked a hole in the bubble, reminding her that every time she stepped outside, her picture was taken and splattered everywhere like mud dragged in from a storm. Every morning she woke up to new sordid details about her past, some true and some concocted. Every day another blogger posts about her, supporting or tearing down. It didn't matter to her anymore really. She didn't want her name on anyone's lips. The selective microscope she was under magnified every flaw, but somehow seemed to overlook any good she had ever done.

Elena propped her elbows on her desk and covered her face with her hands. She knew it would be hard, but she didn't expect to feel so alone. Like she was standing absolutely naked in the middle of an amphitheater, hungry lions licking their chops over her, their next kill, their next meal. Ironic, since exposing her body had never bothered her. But this exposure of the soul, it was gnashing at her peace of mind.

Three taps at her office door pulled Elena back to the task at hand. Caroline poked her head in, a strangely eager light in her eyes.

"Hiya!" She walked into the office and placed a salad in front of Elena. "How is the day going?"

Elena shrugged one shoulder, pulling the salad towards her even though her appetite had been nearly nonexistent.

"It is fine." She popped open the clear plastic top, wrinkling her nose at the salad. "It has olives and feta."

"Yeah, that is how the Greeks do it, sweetie."

Elena rollsed her eyes, but couldn't resist a grin. Her first of the day.

"Smart-ass."

"One of us has to be." Caroline leaned over the desk and snatched one of the olives Elena had no intention of eating. "You used to love olives."

"That was in 2008. I haven't eaten olives in years. It is like you don't even know me."

"Bitch," Caroline muttered, chewing her olive.

"Hussy," Elena muttered back, her smile growing even wider. She needed this. Something other than Liam Davis and the media breathing down her neck.

"François's office called." Caroline crossed her legs and settled back into her seat. "He wants to meet tomorrow to finalize details for Friday's press conference to unveil Goddess."

"Is it still at the Gansevoort?"

"Yep, François wants a final fitting for your dress when we can squeeze it in."

"Can we do Wednesday instead? And see if he can pull a few things for me to consider from his evening collection for the Whitmore Foundation's benefit next month."

Elena's heart lightened at the thought of being involved in the foundation's work again, even in that small way.

"Sure thing, Elena."

Elena's cell phone on the edge of the desk rang, and Caroline reached for it before Elena did. It had become a habit for Caroline with so many people calling to ask her questions, express their support or skepticism. She had become the grand call screener.

"Speak of the devil." Caroline inspected the screen. "It is Jo Walsh."

"Perfect. I have some ideas I need to share for the benefit."

Elena reached for the phone, already smiling. After Nathan and Kristeene Whitmore divorced, Aaron spent his summers in Rivermont with his mother, her brother, and his cousin Jo Walsh. Elena, in turn, would spend half her summer there, too. She didn't know that Jo and she were what someone would call close growing up, but they tolerated each other, which was more than they did for most girls. Jo was always too busy trailing after Aaron and his best friend, Cam, to show much interest in the things that fascinated Elena—namely makeup, clothes, and boys.

"Hey, Jo." Elena nodded at Caroline when she indicated that she was stepping out. "I was just thinking about you. Well, about the benefit."

"Really?" Jo didn't sound like herself. Elena could only imagine that balancing her work with the foundation while being a new mom could be taking its toll.

"Yeah. How's Cam and the kids?"

"Amazing, really." Jo's voice noticeably softened when she talked about her husband and their children, a young girl they adopted from Haiti and the son Jo had a few months ago.

"Glad to hear it." Elena walked over to the wall comprised mostly of windows, affording her an unobstructed view of the narrow Soho street below her office. "Oh! I wanted to tell you about an idea I had for next month's benefit."

"Elena, about that…"

"So there is this amazing floral designer who is working with my new lifestyle website, Retreat."

"Elena."

"I was thinking we could get her to design these one-of-a-kind centerpieces for the tables. She is brilliant, I promise. And I could donate those. It would be great exposure for her, too, of course."

"That's…well, that is very generous, Elena, but I really need to talk about something before we go any further."

"Sorry, Jo." With her finger, Elena absently sketch an invisible heart on the windowpane, writing Damon's name in the center. "Shoot."

"First, I just want to say I'm so sorry for what happened to you all those years ago, for what Liam Davis did to you." Regret spilled into the momentary silence Jo allowed. "I wish you had felt then like you could tell me or Aunt Kris. We would have helped you in any way we could. I hope you believe that."

"I know, Jo." Elena's finger fell away from the window, and she turned to sit on the sill, back to the glass. "I just…I was all the way in New York. You were in North Carolina. We weren't talking a lot by then. I didn't tell anyone."

 _Because I didn't have anyone,_ Elena thought.

"I'm so, so sorry it happened," Jo said. "I left you a voice mail last week. Not sure if you got it."

"My voice mail is so full, I haven't checked it in days. Sorry, and thank you for reaching out."

"Of course. Cam and I are here for you however you need us. However you need me."

"Thanks, Jo." Gratitude intensified in Elena's throat. "That means a lot."

"I wanted you to know how much I personally support you before I tell you what I need to tell you. I don't really know how to handle this except to just say it, Elena. The board met today."

Elena clutched the phone a little tighter, draping her arm across her chest to grip her elbow with her free hand.

"I see," Elena said quietly, foreboding hushing her voice. "And?"

"It was an impromptu meeting, called at the last minute," Jo rushed on to say. "They voted to suspend your responsibilities as celebrity ambassador to the Whitmore Foundation."

The words pounded Elena's heart like a hundred mallets beating away until it was bloody and tender in her chest.

"Daddy and I, of course, voted for you," Jo said. "And Aaron would have. I know they pushed the meeting because they knew it would be hard for Aaron to adjust his schedule at such short notice. By the time he called in, they had a quorum and the vote had passed."

"I see." Elena couldn't find other words.

"It is not that they don't believe you," Jo said, her voice tight and anxious. "They said that all the media attention and the coverage distracts from our mission, and that the benefit would become about all of that, and not our goals and objectives for the night."

"So they would also prefer that I not attend next month?" It was not a physical blow, but Elena felt it like a kick in the stomach.

"Elena, you can come, if you like, of course." Jo said. "But not in the official capacity of celebrity ambassador. None of the photo ops or interviews you would usually do representing us."

Elena wanted to stomp her feet and throw herself flailing to the floor and scream that it was not fair. That she wanted to do something good, for once, by exposing Liam, and all it had done was complicate and destroy things.

"I understand, Jo." Elena shoved the hot lump of emotion back down her throat so she could get this out. "They are right, actually. I can't even work out at six in the morning without a press corps showing up. I believe in the foundation's mission too much to detract from it. I mean that, Jo."

This hurt like hell, but she meant it.

"Aunt Kris is probably turning over in her grave right now that we are making things harder for someone we should be protecting." Jo's voice went watery. "I just…I'm so disappointed in them, Elena. I'm so disappointed in myself for not finding a way to stop this."

"No, Jo, really." Elena straightened from the windowsill and walked over to her desk, collapsing into her chair. "I knew going into this it would be tough."

"Yes, but from Liam Davis, from the press, not from people who are supposed to care about you. Supposed to support you."

"Jo, let's be honest here, though." Cynicism bent Elena's lips into a jaded curve. "Half that board has been wanting to get rid of me since the Playboy spread. You and Aaron barely held them off the last time. This was a final straw for many of them, and they took this opportunity to do something they have wanted to do in the past. Get rid of me."

Her silence on the other ends confirmed that Elena was right.

"Elena, there is one more thing." Jo cleared her throat. "There will be an official statement released tomorrow about it."

Elena closed her eyes, one hand cupping the side of her face. It was standard procedure. She knew that, but it felt like a public betrayal. First her parents didn't support or believe her, and now the foundation she had given years of service to publicly distanced itself from her. Liam's camp would have a field day with this. Everyone would interpret this as more doubt casted on her claims and character. Disappointment ballooned in her chest until there was no room for breath.

"Hey, Jo. I'm gonna go."

"Elena, please. I just want—"

"It is okay." Elena swiped furiously at the tears scalding her cheeks. "I, um, just have a meeting, and need to go. Do what you have to do. I understand."

"Elena, I hope—"

"I still want to donate the centerpieces, okay? I will have Caroline contact your office. Give Cam and the kids my best."

"Elena, if you could just—"

Elena disconnected the call. Not just the call, but from Jo. From the world that kept battering her. The skin that had been thickening hardened to a crust over her heart, protecting and insulating her from any more hurt. Arrows seemed to be flying from every direction, even from people and places she didn't anticipate. It made her feel like she couldn't trust anyone. Like she couldn't depend on anyone. She knew it was not true. She had Caroline. She also had Karen and Shaunti. Her team.

But she wanted Damon. She had known everyone else longer than him, but he was the only one she wanted right now.

"Caroline!" Elena yelled, knowing her voice would carry to the outer office. "Sketches!"

Caroline walked in holding a leather portfolio.

"How was Jo?" she asked. "Everything going smoothly for the benefit?"

"Um, yeah, about that." Elena took the sketches from her friend. "Nix the gown from François. I won't be needing it."

"Okay. You have another designer in mind? Or already have something to wear?"

"No, I won't, uh, I won't be attending." Elena glanced up from the latest sketches for the website design. "But could we get Emily to design centerpieces for it? Connect her with Jo Walsh. I will foot the bill."

"Back up." Caroline leaned her hip against Elena's desk. "You are not going? I thought you were really looking forward to it."

She might as well just tell her friend. They would be releasing the statement tomorrow, but it was still hard for her to coax the words from her mouth.

"I'm not working with the foundation anymore." Elena trailled a finger over one sketch for Emily's section of the site. "She did a good job with these. Sign off on them for me."

Caroline jerked the sketches off the desk, her eyes honed in on Elena's face.

"Not working with the foundation?" she asked. "But you love it. Why…what?"

Elena ran one hand over her face and tipped her head back, a weary breath barely making it past her lips.

"Long story short, they don't want all the shit surrounding me right now to distract from the mission and the objectives, so they are suspending my responsibilities. They are releasing a statement tomorrow."

"Jo sanctioned this?" Anger shook Caroline's voice. "How could she do this?"

"It is not Jo's fault." Elena almost choked on a laugh. "She fought it as hard as she could, but she was outnumbered. Aaron wasn't there for the vote, but he barely won the last battle when I posed for Playboy."

"Can't a girl pose nude and still want to do good in the world?" Caroline slammed the sketches down on the desk. "What the hell is wrong with people? I mean, you come forward to say don't vote for this douche bag who rapes women, and everyone makes you out to be the bad guy?"

"Caroline, I know, but it is what it is."

"No, it is not what it is, Elena!" Caroline started pacing and shaking her head. Basically working herself up into a lather. "I'm so disappointed in people. So mad about how we vilify victims, especially women. How you are the one who was hurt, and yet find yourself on the defensive. I just want to punch the world right now for how you are being treated."

"Hey, slugger." Elena found a smile somewhere, as much for her friend as for herself. "Stop pacing before you pull something. Sit."

Elena pushed the salad towards her.

"Have an olive."

And just like that, they were giggling. It was not real, this temporary lightness Elena found with her best friend. It was a Band-Aid barely covering a bullet hole, blood gurgling over the sides, but she would take it. It got her through the rest of the afternoon of meetings, one fitting she squeezed in at her office, and a Skype call about, surprisingly, an upcoming photo shoot. For a model, she was not modeling much lately.

"Go ahead and knock off, Elena." Caroline glanced at her watch. "Whistle is about to blow."

Elena tapped her phone to display the time. Only five thirty. All that was waiting for her at home was her cold, cavernous penthouse apartment and a stack of takeout menus. And her dusty vibrator, which was a sad substitute for the real thing and had been sorely neglected of late.

"I think I will work a little longer." Elena waved her hand at the door. "You go on, though. We have been at it since eight."

"I'm not leaving unless you do." Caroline set her mouth at that mulish angle Elena knew too well. "I have already called the car around."

There was nothing Elena was doing here that she couldn't do from home, but she wanted to hole up and hide from the world a little bit. Her hesitation costed her because Caroline marched over and snatched the profit projection from her limp hands, tossing it into the trash.

"You threw it away!" Elena tipped towards the trash can, dismayed to see vinaigrette dressing all over her document. "Caroline!"

"Oh, keep your thong on. I printed the damn thing. You have a soft copy in your e-mail, so don't go all nineteen seventy-two on me. Nothing has ever lost in the digital age."

"But, I don't want to go home." Elena bit down on her lip, feeling bruised by all the hard knocks of the last week.

"Yes, you do. I would come with you, but I got a thing." A smile softened that obstinate mouth. "You can kick your shoes off and curl up by the fire with your profit projection."

Elena would rather curl up by the fire with her…what did she call Damon? She still hadn't figured that out. Though he seemed to know exactly what to call her.

 _Mine._

She missed the way his kisses persuaded her to forget everything else. How his hands caressed her until she was burning for him, straining towards him. She missed the heat of his eyes on her body when he thought she was sleeping.

The light in her office went off.

"Caroline, come on. Turn the lights back on."

"Nope." Caroline grabbed Elena's purse and propped the door open with her back. "Get up. Get out."

Caroline chattered all the way to her apartment, where Elena dropped her off with waves and kisses and promises to see her in the morning. As soon as she was out, the temporary smile fell right off Elena's face and landed in the quiet Caroline left behind. There was nothing to sustain it. Elena raised the privacy partition between her and the driver/bodyguard person whose name she couldn't remember right now. She missed Baker. He was so much more than just her driver, and she felt the loss of him more than the loss of her parents, which said a lot.

Elena was so grateful that they weren't ambushed by a group of reporters in her building's underground parking lot. That happened once, but they had tightened security considerably since then. The bodyguard took the silent ride up the elevator with her, his eyes trained straight ahead with unswerving professionalism. She was tempted to kiss him on the cheek to see if he would blush like Baker, but considering the slut factor Liam's team had raised considerably, that could be misinterpreted.

"Good night." Elena unlocked door, turning to face him. "See you in the morning. I will be fine."

"Are you sure, Miss Gilbert?" He peered past her into the darkened apartment.

"Yeah, I only need security when I'm out." She stepped inside, hand already on the knob. "Have a good night."

As soon as Elena stepped into her apartment, she knew something was off. The air felt charged somehow, not like the desolate box she left this morning that only she had been inside of for the last few days. And the smell permeating the apartment—heavenly. She would assume she had left something in the oven, except she didn't cook—ever. Should she call her boydguard back?

Fool that she was, instead of fleeing the scene of a potential homicide—her own—Elena walked as quietly as she could down the hall towards the kitchen. It was bright in there for an ax murderer, and most psychopaths in her limited experience didn't hum "Benny and the Jets" while sautéing dinner. As soon as she entered the kitchen, a well-muscled back and broad shoulders block whatever was cooking on the stovetop. Even though her potential perpetrator faced away from her, she would know that burnished hair, the wide, hard slope of those shoulders, and that ass anywhere.

"Damon?" Elena was scared to say his name aloud in case he was some fevered hallucination the sound of her voice would dispel.

But he turned, a wide smile on those full lips, and opened his arms for her. That was the only invitation Elena needed. She dropped her purse and was across the kitchen practically before it hit the floor. His arms were the sanctuary she had needed. Standing here in this circle of comfort, completely enclosed by his scent and his warmth, Elena felt safe for the first time since Damon boarded that plane last week.

"You are here." she whispered into his neck. "I thought…you aren't due back for another few days."

"This is true." The deep timbre of his voice rolled through her like a tremor. He pulled back to cup her face in his hands and search her eyes. "I wrapped things up early."

Whatever. Couldn't care less. Damon could tell her South Africa floated into the wild blue yonder and he paddled all the way to New York on a piece of driftwood. Elena wouldn't ask any questions. All that matters was that he was here. Her fingers winded into his hair, pulling him down and close enough to kiss. They skipped slow, sweet kisses and cannon straight to desperate, their groans and panting the only sounds in the kitchen while they devoured each other. She couldn't stretch her mouth wide enough. Couldn't touch enough of him at one time. She needed more hands, more nerve endings, to absorb this thrill, these sensations.

Damon hoisted her up, and her legs wrapped around his waist. He reached behind him to turn off the food and walked down the hall and towards her bedroom. It was too far. Elena couldn't wait. She was too empty. She needed him to fill her right here, right now.

"Now, Damon," she said against his lips. "Make love to me against the wall. I want…please. Right now."

Wordlessly, Damon turned her against the wall. Elena locked her legs around him tighter while he undid his belt buckle. The sound of his zipper sliding open had her dripping, had her chest heaving with anticipation. He leaned in, taking her mouth captive and then sliding his tongue down her neck.

"Your breasts," he muttered into the silk collar of her blouse. "I want to see them."

Elena braced one hand against his shoulder while the other scrambled to loosen the buttons on her blouse, baring the almost transparent bra. Her nipples were so swollen from the thought of him, they pressed painfully against the sheer cups. She tugged one satiny shell down to expose her breast. His eyes ate at her naked skin, and his hands slipped beneath her arms, lifting her until her breasts were right at his mouth. His lips took her nipple, suckling her, the sound wet and erotic in the silent apartment. Every pull and tug churned the want in her belly, from her core through her heart until every part of her was electrified with need.

"Are you sure you are ready?" His words singed the delicate skin around her nipple.

Elena nodded head frantically, so hollow, so aching and empty waiting for him.

Damon pulled away to look at her, desire zip lining between their eyes.

"Check and make sure." He glanced at the space where their bodies interlocked, the juncture of her thighs, and then raised his stare back up to sear her.

Elena's eyes never leaving his, she slid her hand beneath her skirt and into her panties, rubbing her fingers into the wet flesh there.

"Show me," Damon said, eyes almost black, his voice a husky rasp.

Elena pulled her fingers out, glistening with her readiness. He took her fingers into his mouth, dipping his tongue into the valley between her fingers, sucking her clean, groaning at the taste of her. He pressed closer and reached between them, shoving her panties aside and thrusting into her so deeply, so fiercely, her back pushed a few inches up the wall. He was so long and thick inside her, there was room for nothing else, not even thought, only this intense pleasure she had begun to think she dreamed.

"Ahhhhh, Damon."

There had never been anything like this. The way he was in and out of her, the scrape of her blouse against the wall with every thrust, hot and fast like a piston. The erratic syncopation of their heartbeats. The intimate slip and slide of bare skin against bare skin.

"Damn," Damon said, voice graveled with desire. "I'm not wearing anything. Are we okay?"

"I promise, promise, promise I'm clean." Her breath chopped up in her chest every time he pumped into her. "And I'm covered. Oh, God, please don't stop. It is so good, Damon. So good. You can't stop."

Damon nodded, eyes pressed tightly together, one forearm against the wall by Elena's head while the other arm curved under her backside. His head dropped beside her against the wall, and he left dirty, sweet, desperate things in her ear, accompanying every word with a deeper, harder push into her body until she was riding the shimmering line between pain and pleasure, an agony of passion that wrenched cries from her throat until it was raw. She couldn't get close enough, tangling her arms behind his neck, gripping his hips with her legs, eliminating any space separating them. Emotion and sensation quaked from her core, fanning out and over every part of her.

Her orgasm started as a shiver and built and rolled through her. Damon pounded into her without restraint, without control, overtaken by the rhythm his body had set, rattling the frames flanking them on the wall. In the grip of this tumult of sensation, Elena could barely hold on. Her body tensed, bracing for the pinnacle. Her heart raced ahead. The thick muscles of his shoulders and in his arms supporting her tightened as he joined her, all his hunger, all his passion, flooding and filling her.

Finally.


	28. Chapter 28

Damon was so far gone over this woman. Rose would roll her eyes, deeply exasperated with him, but he couldn't help it. And as good as Elena looked in his shirt and nothing else, her shower-damp hair falling past her shoulders, it was not that. Even that face and those long legs crossed as she ate the fish he made for her wouldn't have him missing meetings. Her strength drew him to her. He loved the unflinching way she looked, not just at the world, but at herself, the way she faced her mistakes and her flaws head on. She believed that even flawed, she could do good. Her willingness to change and evolve, but to never be less than who she authentically was. All of those things tightened the grip on his heart he didn't think she even knew she had.

"This fish is delicious." Elena gestured to the panga Damon brought back just so he could prepare it for her. "Is this another of your mother's recipes?"

"No, I had it at the Michelangelo in Johannesburg, and requested the recipe." He rested an elbow on her dining room table, his chin on his fist. "Glad you like it."

"I love it." A smile took its time spreading across her face. "Tell me how you came to break into my house two days earlier than I thought you would be back. We kind of skipped the conversation part of the reunion…"

When she smiled at him like that, they could skip it again, if it were left up to him.

"I finished everything for the Collective, and felt confident Enzo and Rose could handle the rest of our meetings."

"You skipped meetings?" Elena slowed her chewing while she processed what that meant. "To come back to New York?"

Damon got up from his seat and squatted on his haunches in front of her, positioning himself between her bare legs, sliding his hands under the hem of his shirt to rest at her hips.

"I skipped meetings and came back, not to New York," he said, answering the questions in her eyes, "but to you."

Elena's smile faded, eyes dropping to her lap.

"Damon." Her whisper danced across his skin. "I don't want to get in the way of what you need to do for the Collective. You deserve that position."

"There is something you should know about me." Damon took his hands from under the shirt, sliding them to her lap, capturing her slim fingers between his. "When the people I care about need me, I'm there."

"I'm fine." Elena shook her head, slipping her hand behind his head to caress his neck. "I don't want you putting all you have worked for at risk."

"It is not."

Maybe it was. Damon didn't care what Thurston insinuated or what Rose said. He believed his record and his character would speak for themselves, and if they didn't, to hell with it. He didn't want to lead an organization ruled by the same politics he had to work against to make a difference.

"I know you are okay, Elena." He pushed the hair over her shoulder, curving his hand around her jaw and forcing her to look at him when he brought up the bad news she told him earlier. "I also know it has to hurt that the Whitmore board let you down. Has to hurt that your parents have turned their backs on you. It has to hurt that so many call your story into question because of things that have all to do with what Liam Davis did to you."

Elena held their stare for a few seconds before pulling away, turning back to her plate.

"And how did you get into my place?" She looked at Damon, telling him with her eyes she was not ready to deal with all the hurts he enumerated. "No one can even get up here unless they are on my list, much less inside."

"A little birdie helped me with that."

"A little bitch birdie named Caroline, I presume."

"That would be the one," he confirmed with a grin.

"No wonder she was so eager for me to get out of the office."

"She texted me about twenty times." Damon grinned when his phone lighted up. "Actually, there she goes again."

"Tell her she is on my list."

Damon's grin faded as he read Caroline's latest text.

"What did she say?" Elena took another bite of her panga. "This really is divine. Make it for me again soon."

"She says 'Welcome back. Did Elena tell you about her visitor?'" Damon looked up from the screen, a frown sketched between his brows. "What visitor?"

"Why that little…" Elena pushed her plate away, reaching for her wine to take a sip.

"What visitor, Elena?" Damon's voice hardened. "And don't lie to me."

Elena rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She cleared her throat, tongue swiping across her lips.

"It wasn't a big deal. I wish Caroline hadn't—"

"What. Visitor."

"Liam came to my office one night."

Rage blurred Damon's vision and pounded the blood in his ears, drowning out everything else for a second.

"What the hell?" He demanded, on his feet, fists clenched. "When?"

"The day…" She dropped her words for a second, drawing and releasing a quick breath. "The day before I went public."

"But that was more than a week ago." He ran agitated hands through his hair. "How many times have we spoken since then, Elena? And you never even mentioned it?"

"I wasn't going to…well, I didn't think you needed to know."

"Why the hell would you not tell me that?" Damon slammed his fist into his palm, needing it to be Liam's face.

"Because of that!" she pointed to his fist. "I knew you would respond just like this, and it won't help a damn thing, Damon."

"Won't help?" He leaned forward until their noses almost touched and their breath mingled. "What did he say? What did he want?"

Elena didn't back down, didn't shy away, but met his anger with her determination.

"He wanted to convince me that I had it all wrong. He wanted me to drop it all, and when I refused, he tried to intimidate me."

"Who was there with you?" His voice, gruffed, growling.

"No one," she whispered. "It was just me. He came by after everyone had gone."

Fury, helpless fury, almost choked Damon. This was exactly what he had feared, that Liam would find a way to get to her. That he wouldn't be around to protect her.

"You should have told me, Elena."

"So what?" She gestureed to the fist balled at his side. "So you could go beat him to a pulp?"

"Yeah, and I still can."

"Good luck with that." Her laugh was brittle. "He had a security detail with him. If you can get through those thugs, then what? It won't change anything, Damon."

Elena stood, her eyes wet with rare tears.

"You could beat him till the cows come home, but it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change the fact that he raped me. It wouldn't give anything back to me. It won't make this any easier."

And that was it. Damon wanted to make it all went away for her. It drove him insane that he couldn't fix this, that he couldn't protect her from, not a knife or a gun, but from words. From opinions. There was a part of him that wished he had never encouraged her to come forward, because it was killing him to see her suffer this way.

"Elena, I have to do something. He should pay."

Elena reached up, clasping his face between her hands, melding their eyes together with the heat of her conviction.

"He will pay. That is why we have to do this right. I don't need you to beat him up. I don't need you pissing circles around me, going caveman, comparing sizes." She laughed humorlessly. "Believe me. Yours is bigger."

Damon rested forehead against her, managing only a breath before she went on.

"You are my only vulnerability, Damon," she said, her voice trembling over his lips. "You are the only spotless thing in my life, and if he can bring you down to his level, if he can ruin you, he knows it will throw me off. He knows I may give in."

"Elena, I'm not spotless. I'm not perfect, darling. I'm not a saint."

"No, you are no saint." She closed her eyes, huddling against his bare chest, rubbing his back. "But in this messed-up fairy tale, you are the only prince I have got."

"Baby—"

"I need you to hold me." A tear escaped from under her closed eyes, making its way down her cheek. "I need you to remind me that there is more to me than what they say, that there is good in me. I need you to take care of me in the ways that count. Can you do that?"

Elena lifted her head, rubbing his biceps with one hand, taking his hand with the other. Damon was speechless. All he could do was to grip her tighter to him. He sat down, pulling her across his lap, pushing the hair off her neck so he could leave kisses there. Shelving his anger, his vengeance, was one of the hardest things he had had to do, but he could do it for now. For her.

"Yeah. I can do that."

Elena's phone vibrated on the table, Aaron Whitmore's name flashing on the screen. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"I can't," she said. "I know why he is calling, and I just can't. He wants to apologize for what happened with the foundation. I have to put that behind me for now."

Damon's phone vibrated on the table, too, but with a news alert. He picked it up to read the headline.

"That may not be the only thing he wants to talk about, Elena." He turned the phone to face her. "Nathan Whitmore just officially announced that he is retiring to focus on his company's philanthropic work."

Elena tensed in his lap, eyes going wide.

"Oh, God, Daddy. He is going to challenge Aaron, isn't he?"

Damon nodded his head slowly, placing the phone back on the table. Elena reached for her phone. When she listened to Aaron's voice mail, he apologized for not being able to save her with the foundation and confirmed that the Augustine board would vote soon on its new CEO because her father had challenged Nathan's choice.

"Oh, God. Daddy is really doing it." Elena stared unblinkingly at her phone. "He is challenging Aaron, and essentially Nathan's wishes, to make a play for Augustine."

"Augustine Enterprises is not your responsibility. Aaron can take care of himself, and your father certainly can and always does." Damon pressed a kiss to the softest lips he had ever tasted. "You are going to take the next few days to take care of yourself. And I will take care of you, too, in the ways that count."

Elena smiled against his mouth, angling her head to kiss him back. The touch and slide of their tongues raised goose bumps across his arms and incited his dick to readiness despite the heaviness of their discussion.

"I'm sorry." She squirmed in his lap. "I can barely walk. You can't put that big thing inside me again so soon."

Their laughter shattered any passion the moment held, and Damon could only shake his head.

"I'm serious, Elena. Let me take care of you for a few days. Take some time off."

She looked at Damon from under her lashes, capturing the corner of her lip between her teeth, considering his offer.

"I can't completely check out," she finally said. "I have a meeting with François Wednesday, and we have a press conference for Goddess Friday."

"I have a few things here and there, too, but they can be done from right here." Damon cupped her face. "Let's be together for a few days. Say yes."

He slipped his hand between the buttons of his shirt she was wearing, palming her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers until it was swollen and pebbled. Her lashes dropped immediately, eyes closed, head falling back against his shoulder. His other hand slid between her legs, finding the wet warmth he craved. His mouth watered at the thought of tasting her, eating the sweetness nestled between her thighs. As soon as he slipped his middle finger inside, her legs fell open, her hips matching his rhythm.

"That is my girl," Damon whispered through her hair and into her ear.

"Are you controlling me with sex, Mr Salvatore?" Her breathy question was barely a sound.

"It is the only thing I have found that does the trick." Damon laughed against her neck. "Otherwise, I would have no upper hand."

"Oh, I like where your upper hand is right now." A husky laugh slipped past her pouty lips.

His hand went still, the wet walls inside her was still gripping his finger past the knuckle.

"So it is a deal? You will give me the next few days? Forget the madness out there for a while?"

Her face clouded for a moment with something other than passion, and Damon realized until he mentioned it, she had managed to almost forget the firestorm waiting for her outside these walls. He wanted that for her. Just for a little while. Just long enough to repair some of the damage this process had already done. He saw it in her eyes, and the bruises didn't show, but he knew they were there.

"Elena, is it a deal?"

Elena lifted her lashes to look at Damon, a small smile budding on her face.

"It is a deal." She turned so that her long legs hung on either side of him, straddling him in the chair. "And maybe I underestimated what I can handle. I'm ready if you are."

 _Oh, ever ready. I'm ready, there is no doubt about it,_ Damon thought silently.


	29. Chapter 29

_How much bliss can one person take?_ Elena wondered. It was rhetorical, a question she didn't want to answer in case she had reached her limit. She would just keep testing the boundaries of happiness with Damon. She didn't know the world could be this bright, that sex could be this good, this meaningful. Every time they were together, he entrenched himself more deeply, seeping through her pores. He had worked himself into her crevices, woven himself into the pattern of her life so intricately, she would have to pick him out slowly and painfully with something sharp to separate him from the fibers of her heart. She didn't know she had this in her, but Damon had been digging around inside her, unearthing things she thought were for other women. Not for her.

"Well, that was fun," Damon said, holding Elena's hand in the backseat of the SUV as they left François's atelier in the Meatpacking District.

"Yeah, that was supposed to be my fitting, but François spent more time oohing and aahing over those shoulders and that ass of yours." They shared a grin, fingers locked and caressing. "I knew François would have a ball with a strapping fellow like you."

"I'm not sure I like the term 'strapping,'" Damon saidl. "Makes me feel like Paul Bunyan."

"That sounds about right." Elena laughed.

"You should see my brother. He is slightly taller than I am."

"Good grief. Is he as gorgeous as you are?"

"Stefan is handsome but not sexy and irresistible like I'm." Damon winked, a smile creasing his handsome face. "And my mum is a beauty."

He hesitated, studying their hands before looking back up at Elena.

"I would love for you to meet them."

Elena gulped. "Um…wow. I don't know. Maybe someday."

"What about Thanksgiving?" His eyes stayed steady on her face, but she felt his fingers tightened around hers "Based on where things stand with your parents, I wouldn't trust you with a carving knife around them. Doubt you will be eating turkey at home."

"Yeah." Elena smiled so stiffly it felt like a cramp across her lips. "Especially not after my mother's latest statement."

A reporter asked Miranda about Elena's involvement with Liam Davis ten years ago. Miranda recalled her daugther as "troubled" and emotionally unstable during that time. She said her daugther acted erratically, abandoning her college plans and moving "on a whim" to Milan. She also added that her daugther was under a psychiatrist's care around that time.

It was true that after Liam raped her, she had changed her mind about college and saw a therapist for two years trying to recover. As expected, her mother would distort and use that information against her.

"Elena?" Damon brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, luring her away from her thoughts and back into the conversation.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said so why not spend Thanksgiving with my family?"

"That is in less than a month, Damon." Elena pulled her fingers away from his to toy with a zipper on her skirt. "We haven't been…well, we have only been…"

"Dating?" He leaned forward, eyebrows lifted. "Is that the word you are searching for?"

"I guess that word will do." A nervous grin played across Elena's lips. "It is just…am I really the girl you want to bring home to mama right now? I'm freaking notorious, and I bet your mother teaches Sunday school."

"You called it." Damon chuckled, taking her fingers back. "Every Sunday for twenty-five years."

"You don't think she has read all the stuff Liam's campaign has said about me?" Elena melted into the leather seat at her back, shame slinking through her belly at the thought of Damon's churchgoing mother knowing all her exploits.

"I think she knows her son." Damon tipped up her chin, plumbing her eyes. "She knows I'm not a fool, and that I'm an excellent judge of character."

"Maybe you are having a lapse of judgment." Elena's harsh laugh cut into the air between them. "I have been known to have that effect on men before."

"What have I told you about comparing me to them?" Irritation thinned Damon's full lips. "I don't care who you have been with before. You are with me now."

Every time Elena thought she could get lost in this thing with Damon, something reminded her that he deserved better. Avoiding blogs and working from home for a few days hadn't made her problems go away. And so far, no one else had stepped forward with allegations against Liam. So it was just her, hanging out to dry, making a stand that might not even do any good. That might just leave her life in ruins, but not fix anything.

"I want you embedded in my life, Elena." Damon's fingers tangled in the hair at her neck, telegraphing tingles across her scalp. "And I promise you I'm going to be embedded in yours. Nothing will shake me loose."

He kissed her, sending his tongue diving deep, invading, marauding, taking his pleasure, all along the way giving her more than she thought her body could withstand. This pleasure, this special brand of pleasure, was wrapped in tenderness, spiked with care, and lined with an emotion she was afraid to name. Even when he moved to pull away, her lips clung to his. Her hands held his face so she could greedily take more, savouring him, savouring these moments because something this good couldn't last. Not for her.

"We are here, sweetheart," he whispered against her lips. "I just need to grab a few things from my office, and then we can head back to your place."

Elena looked at the Brooklyn brownstone she hadn't been back to since he left for South Africa. She knew Enzo and Rose were back. She was still smarting from the disapproval that bloggers, Liam's supporters, and the media dish out virtually. She didn't need an in-person dose from Damon's assistant.

"I will wait here." Elena reached down for her iPad, setting it on her lap.

"No, you won't." Damon pushed the iPad off to the side. "Come inside. Say hi to my friends."

"Damon, they don't like me." Elena swallowed the hurt swelling in her throat. "Rose doesn't like me, and I can't promise that my inner bitch won't show her ugly face if that woman pushes me too far."

"Does she have doubts?" Damon leaned his arms above his head against the car, looking back at Elena unwaveringly, honestly. "Yes."

Elena dropped her eyes and reached for the iPad again.

He leaned in and tossed the device to the floor mat, grabbed her hand, and gently tugged until she was standing sandwiched between his big body and the car.

"Do I give a damn?" He pressed his forehead to hers, breath on her lips. "Nope."

"Damon, I don't want to come between you and your friends."

"Then let's hope Rose doesn't make me choose." He clasped her waist, fingers splayed over her back. "Because she would get the very short end of that stick."

Even though Elena didn't want to cause strife between Damon and one of his closest friends, hearing that he would choose her was a feather floating in her chest. She would choose him over so many things that had been important to her in the past. She couldn't help but remember Kerris's impassioned speech about putting the person you loved before yourself because you knew they were doing the same. She realized for the first time that she would choose Damon over herself, and that scared the living crap out of her. This was as close to selflessness as she had ever come, and there was only one thing she could blame it on.

She was in love with Damon Salvatore.

Only she would have this epiphany on a busy Brooklyn street.

"You okay?" Damon studied Elena closely. "Let's get this over with so we can go back to your place."

"Um, yeah." She painted a fake smile on her face, feeling it dry and tighten at the edges. "Sure."

Elena followed Damon upstairs to his bedroom, and couldn't help but remember the last time they were in this room. She laid down on his bed, the divan cool at her back, stretching her arms over her head. _Oh, if this bed could talk it would moan,_ she thought. Her eyes drift to where Damon flicked through a stack of papers on the desk in the corner, his powerful shoulders hunched, concentration wrinkling his expression into a frown. Even his frowns turned her on. The man was like a matador. Or maybe he was like a bull, and she was his matador, waving herself like a red flag every chance she got. Provoking him to lust and want and…

Elena couldn't fill in that blank. She had an epiphany on the street. It didn't mean Damon had the same. She knew he cared about her. But love? That was huge. That was something she had never considered. She had the artificial version with Aaron, basically an overgrown puppy love she should have shaken when he didn't take her to the prom. But this? This was different. It was all grown-up, all consuming. It was not only passion but a love which consumed her.

It was a secret she wanted to lock in her heart under a trap door covered by a thick rug. If there was one thing her father had taught her, it was that love was a luxury people like her couldn't afford. People with enemies. People with dark pasts. People with secrets. Love became a weapon, and she was in the fight of her life right now. She woudln't have anyone using Damon against her.

"Hey, I think what I need is downstairs in the office." Damon made his way over to the bed, running his eyes over Elena's body, lingering on her legs where her skirt was pulled up. He ran his finger from her knee up and over the sensitive skin inside her thigh. He dipped until his lips hovered over hers.

"You laid out on my bed like this," he said, eyes wicked. "Is that an invitation?"

Elena bent her knee so that his finger slid higher, closer to the heat centered between her legs.

"Do you accept?"

Damon chuckled and tapper her nose.

"You will not distract me." He dropped a quick kiss on her lips before straightening. "At least not here. Now when we get back to your place, you are all mine."

"Hmmmmm." Elena flicked her eyes up to the ceiling and then back to his smiling face. "You keep saying that."

"I keep meaning it." He gave her a wink before leaving the room.

Elena relished the quiet that took over the room, leaving space for her to hug her discovery close. She loved Damon Salvatore. Who would have thought that?

Approaching footsteps brought a smile to her face. She bent her knee higher, sliding the other leg to the side so he would see her black silk panties as soon as he walked through that door.

"Changed your mind?" Elena lifted up on her elbow, her sexy grin petrifying on her face when her eyes met Rose. She dropped her knee hastily, sitting up and pulling down her skirt. "Oh, Rose. Sorry. I thought you were—"

"Yeah, that was obvious." Rose glanced around the room. "I thought I heard Damon in here."

"He went downstairs to look for something before we go."

"So he is staying with you?" Rose asked, which Elena didn't think people could actually do, but she proved her wrong. "I hate that."

"You hate that he is staying with me?" Elena hackles rose little by little. "Why exactly?"

"I hate to argue with him." Rose gave her a long-suffering look. "In all our years of friendship, we have never disagreed like this. That is what I hate."

"What are you disagreeing about?" Elena scooted to the edge of the bed and smoothed the skirt over her legs, the closest she could come to modesty.

"He didn't tell you?" Caution slowed Rose's words and puckered her brows.

"Why don't you?" Elena had a sneaking suspicion this was about her.

"If you must know…"

"Well, now I must."

Rose licked her lips. "In South Africa, concerns were raised." She cleared her throat, looking at Elena directly. "About Damon's relationship with you."

"With me?" Elena pressed her hands flat to her chest. "What kind of concerns? Who?"

"Several of the Collective members who want Damon to be the next leader are concerned about the scandals he has adjacent to being involved with you."

"Adjacent?"

"It means—"

"I know what 'adjacent' means," Elena snapped. "Are you saying that they would hold everything going on with me against Damon? That it might affect whether or not he gets the position?"

Rose didn't look away from the insistence of her words, her eyes.

"Yes, I'm saying as much. Others are saying as much, but he won't listen." Her eyes travelled from Elena's leather knee boots over her skirt and up her fitted sweater. "He won't see reason because all he can see is you."

"Damon is a grown man." Elena narrowed her eyes at Rose. "A smart man, not to be led around by the nose. Give him some credit."

"Oh, it is not Damon I don't give credit." Rose tilted her head, a nonsmile on her face. "He has worked too hard to see it all go down the drain because he is infatuated with some woman who can't keep her name out of the tabloids."

"Oh, you mean my salacious rape allegations?" Elena couldn't stop herself from raising her voice. "How very naughty of me, going off and getting myself raped."

"It is not the rape, Elena. I'm sorry that happened to you. It is all the things that keep coming out about you that have nothing to do with the rape charges."

"It is all about the rape charges, Rose. You know that."

"But it is your life. Your choices. Things you brought on yourself, and I don't want to see them brought on Damon." Rose turned to walk out the door, but looked at Elena over her shoulder before she left. "I think you actually do care about him. If you do, maybe think about how this will all affect his life when you are done with him."

Even minutes after Rose was gone, her slimy words sticked to Elena's skin. If she really loved Damon, could she put his needs before hers, even when it might hurt both of them? When Damon walked back into his bedroom, holding the file he went looking for, and his eyes find hers, tender with promises, Elena was not sure she could.


	30. Chapter 30

"You are quiet." Damon slid his thumb over Elena's palm, concerned eyes on her face. "What is going on?"

"Nothing." Elena mustered a fake smile. She hated being phony with Damon, but it was a hard habit to break. "Just thinking."

"About what?" Damon rubbed her knee, pulled her head to his shoulder, and kissed her hair.

"About the Goddess press conference Friday." The lie came easily to her lips, only affirming that she was too false for such an honest man.

"That dress François fitted you for today is gorgeous. You will knock them dead."

"It is," Elena agreed, the words barely registering. The only words she heard were the ones Rose dumped all over her at Damon's house.

The privacy partition rolled down, surprising Elena. Her bodyguard/driver was so unobtrusive, she was usually barely aware of his presence, but his eyes seek hers in the rearview mirror.

"Miss Gilbert," he said. "Clive from your building just called. There is some work going on in the underground lot. Will you be fine getting out at the curb, and maybe Mr Salvatore can walk you in while I park?"

"Of course, that is fine," Damon answered before she could. He loved the fact that Elena had security, but felt like she needed it only when he was not around. Elena thought that it offended his alpha sensibilities to think someone else was protecting her when he was here. His protectiveness had only intensified since he found out about Liam's visit.

Damon took her hand, helping her stepped onto the SUV's running board. He kept her hand as they walked towards her apartment. Before they could make it to the entrance, one reporter after another approached, until they were surrounded by them, a shoal of piranhas circling them. All asking Elena the same question with one voice in a hundred different ways. She couldn't make anything out until her brain seized on one word from the furor of their interrogation.

Baby.

She jerked hand from Damon's, turning wide eyes on him.

"You have to go. Damon, right now, you have to go."

"What?" Damon sticked out an arm, fending off a reporter shoving a microphone in their faces. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm not leaving you. We are almost inside."

But not close enough. God, so close, but not close enough.

The last person Elena expected or wanted to see shoved her way through the crowd, eyes livid and mouth distorted into a scarlet slash across her face.

"Hayley." Elena barely got the name out, the simple math of them asking her about a baby and Klaus' wife showing up here equaling disaster for here. And Damon right here to witness it.

"You bitch!" Hayley screeched, lunging for Elena, fingers extended like talons towards her face. Her nails raked over Elena's cheek, leaving a trail of fire across her skin. Damon grabbed Hayley around the waist, dragging her back. Panic tore at Elena, pulling at her seams, ripping any façade of calm away. Even as reporters blocked the door, hurled questions at her, she still tried her best to calm Hayley down.

"Hayley, wait. I can explain, but not here. Come inside."

"Explain?" Her voice sagged beneath outrage and pain. "Well, please explain to me that you had my husband's baby. That you killed my husband's baby! Explain that, bitch!"

"Baby?" Damon's eyes snapped to Elena's face. "Elena, what is she talking about?"

"Elena, can you address these new reports that you were pregnant with Klaus Mikaelson's baby?" A reporter yelled at Elena. "Is it true you had an abortion in Milan?"

Elena closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath, hoping against hope that this was an old nightmare about long-buried secrets, and she would wake up any minute. But when she opened her eyes, it was still pandemonium, with reporters hurling questions and accusations at her. Hayley was still straining against Damon's strong arms, trying her best to maul her. Damon's eyes still questioned her. She was still a twig in a tornado, tossed madly to and fro.

"Do you know how long I have tried to give him a son?" Hayley yelled, tears streaming over her hollowed cheeks. "Ten years. Ten years I have tried, and you were with him what? Months? And you get my husband's child? You took that from me."

Her tortured cries gripped and twisted Elena's heart. She had no idea.

"Hayley, I'm so sorry, but I—"

"Now you have apologies?" Tears ravaged Hayle's face, her hatred contracting and expanding with every labored breath. "You are poison in a man's blood. A man is never rid of you. You spit on everything that should have been mine. I spit on you, bitch!"

She spit in Elena's face, and cameras flashed. Elena couldn't even flee the glare of what felt like a million lights. She was stunned; a living, breathing affront trapped in this spectacle. She wiped the spit from her face, humiliation wrapping around her whole body, a vine winding from the ground and anchoring her to the spot.

"Elena!" That voice penetrated the miasma of shame and horror enveloping Elena.

"Elena," Caroline said again, her eyes set on Elena, waiting for her to respond. "Let's get you inside, honey."

Details filtered in like light through a dark cloud. Caroline wasn't alone. Geena, Elena's publicist, and Karen were right behind her. All urging Elena towards her apartment. Caroline grabbed Elena's arm and pushed through the wall of flesh and flashing bulbs. Elena looked over her shoulder, seeking out Damon. He stood in the middle of the mess she had made, Hayley slumped against him, limp, weeping, distraught. Elena did that. She didn't mean to. She didn't know her lover in Milan was married. She didn't know an ill-fated pregnancy would break Hayle's heart this way. She didn't know the man she loved would end up holding the bag of her folly.

The man she loved. Their eyes connected for what felt like the last time. Elena stopped moving forward, turned back to him before she realized it.

"Elena, go!" Damon shouted, pulling one arm from Hayley to wave Elena inside, ahead. "I'm right behind you. I'm coming. Just go."

"He is right," Geena said, speeding them towards the door of the lobby. "This is a disaster. Get inside."

Elena was galvanized into action, rushing to the entrance, her team insulating her from the questions, surrounding her, protecting her.

Clive held the door open for them, his eyes anxious.

"Miss Gilbert, I'm sorry," he said. "If the underground parking lot had been done, none of this would have happened."

"It is not your fault, Clive," Elena managed to assure him.

"Let me know if there is anything I can do," he called from behind them as they rushed towards the private elevator.

Elena stopped and turned, catching his eyes, resisting Caroline tugging on her arm to pull her inside the elevator car.

"There is something you can do for me, Clive." The words queued up in Elena's throat would hurt her like she was cutting off her own arm, but they had to be said. If she loved Damon, they had to be said. "Take Mr Salvatore off my list, effective immediately. He is not to be let up."

Elena stepped into the elevator, a preternatural calm taking over her body, cell by cell. Now that Damon was out of the picture, protected from the toxicity of her life, she could focus on taking that bastard Liam Davis down knowing that she was the only one who would suffer the consequences. She swirled bitterness, rage, and indignation into a witch's brew she planned to force-feed Liam personally.

She didn't take her eyes off the numbers, lighting up one by one as she headed towards her tower fit for a princess, even though she was not one. Never had been. If anything, she was the frog, and her prince was probably already trying to scale the wall she just erected, but he wouldn't be able to. She had made sure of that.

"Elena, what was that you said to Clive? Why would you do that?" Caroline demanded, her eyes like lasers on Elena's profile as Elena's studied the ascending numbers headed towards the penthouse. "You are ruining everything."

"No, not everything." Elena hardened her expression, freeing it from the pain soaking through her heart. "This time, I'm only ruining myself."

x x x

Elena was wearing black and her signature hairstyle, the dark brown hair flowing past her shoulders, straight as a board to the middle of her back. Makeup—expert. Heels—high and outrageously expensive. The black dress François designed for her molded every curve like her body was a canvas he painted it onto. The skirt stopped mid-calf, clinging from hem to throat. Even the sleeves fitted her arms like skin. There was no room for fat in such a creation. The woman who wore this dress must be fit and flawless.

And yet when she looked at herself Elan saw only mistakes. She wore her sins as surely as a scarlet letter blazing across her chest. She hated the reflection staring back at her. This dress felt tight. This hair felt heavy. This makeup, thick enough to camouflage the angry, red scratch on her cheek, felt like it was caked all over her face, and she coudln't breathe. She couldn't do this.

She was no goddess.

"Ready?" Caroline entered the small room where Elena was waiting at the Gansevoort Hotel. "I think every reporter in New York, including the National Geographic correspondent, squeezed into that ballroom."

"Not surprising." Elena turned to the side in the mirror, needlessly checking the dress for bulges and wrinkles. "The biggest freak show in this town is here."

"You are not a freak show, Elena."

"Tell that to the protesters outside carrying signs that say 'baby murderer,'" Elena said quietly.

"Elena, I'm so sorry. Those are Liam's supporters picking at bones to make sure the support swings Liam's way. You know that."

"They are picking at bones all right." Elena pressed her lips together. "Like buzzards hovering over my carcass."

"No one is paying them any attention."

"Oh, the reporters certainly are. You can best believe they are getting their B-roll ready for the six o'clock news."

"Elena, you know when you are ready to talk about…" Caroline hesitated before going on. "About anything. I mean, you know."

Elena met Caroline's eyes in the mirror, silently begging her friend not to ask her about the baby. Caroline had known her too long and too well not to get the message. She let a breath go, running her slim hand through her blond hair.

"I'm good, but thanks." Elena turned to face her friend. "Is François going mad? He can't have imagined when he chose me as his inspiration that I would come with all much baggage."

"Are you kidding me?" Caroline snorted, twisting her matte red mouth into a grin. "He is practically jumping with glee. I think he's of the all-publicity-is-good-publicity school of thought."

Publicity? It seemed that every news outlet in the world carried the same headline this morning.

 _"I spit on you, bitch!"_

And thanks to modern technology, camera phones all around captured the whole dreadful scene, giving anyone who would like one a play-by-play of her awful confrontation with Hayley.

"Well, I'm glad this publicity is working out for somebody." Elena retouched her lipstick, which didn't need it.

"You seemed to be courting some attention yourself last night." Caroline's eyes harden on Elena's face. "I mean having dinner with Matt at Minnow. It was like gasoline on a kitchen fire. If they weren't talking about Hayley, they were speculating about you and Matt getting back together."

"Mission accomplished then." Elena smoothed her hair once more, turning to check for lipstick on her teeth.

"Is there a game plan here, Elena?" Caroline stretched her arms out before dropping them to her sides. "We are supposed to be partners, and I'm in the dark about so many things right now. Like why you are cutting Damon out and making the world think you are back with Matt."

"I don't care if the world thinks I'm back with Matt." Elena studied the shoes pinching her feet. "As long as they don't think I'm with Damon. That's all that matters."

"You think this is protecting him?" Caroline asked incredulously. "From what? He is calling every hour, has been to the building several times asking to come up. You don't just throw a man like that away, Elena."

Thank God the door opened. If Elena had to hear any more about how much Damon wanted her, how he was fighting for her, she wouldn't be able to hold out. She would walk all the way to Brooklyn in these damn shoes and bang on his door until he took her back.

"You are ready, Elena?" François asked from the door. In his mid-sixties, François was still a handsome man, distinguished and always perfectly attired in a suit of his own design. His salt-and-pepper ponytail, a nod to his flamboyant younger days, was tamed into line down his neck.

"Hello." Elena walked over to him, placing a kiss on his cheek. "How do I look?"

"Magnifique, toujours, ma petite." He dangled Elena's hand over her head and turned her to get a full look. "Just as I envisioned you. My Goddess. And the scent, so beautiful, yes?"

"Beautiful." Elena leaned towards him so he could smell it on her neck. "I'm wearing it now."

"Parfait. Parfait." He hooked Elena's elbow through his and started towards the door. "As we discussed, the curtain will drop to reveal the ad."

Just what Elena needed today. Fifteen feet of her nearly naked body. It was all shoulders, knees, and face. No lady bits or tits, but still. Why couldn't she have posed in say…a habit? Sister Elena had a nice ring to it. Maybe she should consider a convent once she had done with modeling. This ridiculous banter running in her head was further evidence that she was barely holding on, as if she needed proof. She might present a placid surface, might seem to be held together by steel bands and wooden bones, but it was all as fragile as porcelain. She knew, only she knew, that one more thing could shatter her. And she couldn't have that with half of New York waiting to see the Goddess.

As soon as they took the stage, the buzz in the room escalated to a fervent hum of speculation that had nothing to do with the perfume Elena was wearing. She couldn't summon a smile, hard as she tried, so she had frozen her face into Ice Princess mode, hoping they would take it for arrogance instead of numb terror that she would fall apart in front of them all.

"Ladies and gentlemen," François began, leaning into the mic to elevate his voice over the others in the room. "Esteemed members of the press, thank you for coming today. When I considered my new fragrance, I knew I wanted it to embody all that is beautiful about womanhood. I met Elena Gilbert ten years ago when she was fresh out of high school, new to the runway. I was the first to call her the Goddess, you know."

He chuckled, offering Elena an affectionate smile she tried her best to return.

"She was a goddess then, and she is a goddess now. Even more so."

The audience dutifully applauded. Elena look out for the first time. There were actually a lot of friendly, familiar faces. Mostly people from the industry she had worked with for years, mixed in with the story-seekers.

"Without further ado, I present to you my new scent, Goddess!"

François gestured to the wall behind them, and Elena heard the curtain drop. The crowd gasped, varying degrees of horror on their faces. Was it that bad? Elena was afraid to look. Maybe something was Photoshopped badly, or was it a shadow of a nipple? What could it be?

She thought she was prepared for anything. Thought she could withstand whatever they threw at her, sure that she could duck before the next blow fell. But there was no ducking this. The word WHORE was spray-painted in bright red letters over François's perfume ad. They might as well have sliced open her veins and bled her out to scrawl it in her blood.

Elena had barely had time to absorb the initial shock, when her publicist, Geena, was right beside her, pulling her elbow to get her off the stage. Elena was submitting, letting Geena drag her away, when Halima's words whispered to her again, as clearly as if she stood right beside her.

 _I tell my story every chance I get. Every time I do, I raise a fist against my oppressors_.

"Stop." Elena jerked her arm from Geena's grip, digging her costly heels into the carpeted stage. "No, stop."

"Elena," Geena whispered urgently. "We need to get you out of here. This is not good."

Elena shook her arm free and walked back to the podium. François's sorrowful eyes met hers, and she didn't know if he felt worse for her or for his beautiful defaced ad. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and stepped to the mic.

"First, I want to apologize to my dear friend François," Elena said, her voice barely shaking. "This is such a special day for a very special man."

She looked back at François, who blew her a kiss, eyes sad.

"I hate that all the drama surrounding me lately has intruded on his art, on this lovely scent I'm truly honored to represent."

Elena gripped the sides of the podium, pressing her elbows against the wood to scaffold herself.

"This is all because I dared to speak out against a man who hurt me, a man I suspect has hurt other women the same way. He is a powerful man," Elena said. "And I'm not the first victim he has tried to silence and to intimidate. He has succeeded before."

She pressed her lips close enough to the mic to smear her lipstick.

"But I'm still here, Mr Davis and my story remains the same. You may find people to call me a whore. You may find people who will call me a homewrecker. You may even send some to march out front and call me a murderer, but you will never, ever find anyone who can call me a coward, and I'm not backing down."

There were cameras everywhere. Elena found one to look directly into, narrowing her eyes with all the indignation and fury building in her with atomic force.

"Me, you won't silence," she told Liam. "Me, you can't make go away."

And with that, she allowed Geena to pull her off the stage, to bundle her into a waiting car at the rear of the hotel. To smuggle her into her building, managing to avoid all the press out front. She herded Elena along, and she let her, but as soon as they reached her apartment, Elena stopped her at the door. She stared at her Geena, and just shook her head, closing the door in Geena's face and locking it.

For a moment, Elena just stood there, unable to process any of it. Then the fortress she had built around her emotions started crumbling. That thick skin that crusted over and was now as tough as an old scab covering an ancient wound cracked open. She wondered how it would feel when they found something sharp enough to cut through all the layers. She didn't know they would come with an ice-tipped stiletto. She didn't know they would plunge it through her heart.

All the pain came at once, like an avalanche she couldn't ward off. The old pain of what Liam did to her, what he took from her. Her parents' betrayal, a lifetime of their indifference. Losing her work with the foundation, the closest she had ever come to doing good. The violent ignominy of Hayley's confrontation. All the insults and innuendos piled on her head and shoulders for the last few weeks. She felt it all and at once, and it was so much heavier, so much harder to bear than she thought it would be.

Elena stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. The Goddess looked back at her—perfect, composed, beautiful. She was such a lie. Such a shell, good for nothing but covering up pain. Elena hated her. She wanted this perfect black dress off her back. She clawed at the neckline until it gave a satisfying rip, exposing her bra beneath. She peelled the dress away, tossing it across the bathroom to land in her sunken tub. She kicked off her shoes and stripped away her underwear until she faced herself naked.

And it was still not enough.

Tears boiled in her throat, running over her cheeks like hot water as she wiped away her makeup with her hands. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and finally the Goddess was gone. In her place was a naked girl with no makeup, and mascara streaked her face in sooty trails. A bright red scratch across her cheek stood out like an exclamation mark.

Elena sank to the cold floor, falling onto her side and pulling her knees to her chest, rolling herself up until she was as small as an atom. With nothing left to cover her, she finally felt the pain, and it was awful, but it was real. It was true. She couldn't hide from it anymore.

She was tired of trying.


	31. Chapter 31

Damon had missed something.

Something vital, and it was bugging the hell out of him. He was, by nature and by necessity, a meticulous man. He didn't mean that his socks all had their own cubby and all his stuffs were color sorted and alphabetized. He was meticulous about the things that really matter. He was meticulous about people. He observed them. He discerned. He intuited. He was rarely wrong. And if he was not mistaken, Elena Gilbert loved him. He saw it in her eyes their last morning together. It charged every touch, every kiss. He knew it the same way he knew she hungered for significance.

Because Damon recognized it in himself first.

Rose could said they were not right for each other. Elena could say it was too fast or she was not good enough. Everyone could tell him it would never work. Sinner, saint, whatever. Damon knew his own heart. He always had. It told him he couldn't spend the rest of his life with Andie, and it told him with Elena, he must. And she felt it, too. He would bet his life on it.

So why was he reading a caption under a picture of his woman having dinner with that damn quarterback? At Minnow last night? Why did she take him off her list? Why wouldn't she return his calls? Or texts? Why was she boxing him out when all he wanted to do was protect her? Why didn't she tell him about the baby? About the abortion? It grated that she still didn't trust him to accept her, flaws and all. He couldn't blame her. She had been rejected, exposed, and disdained in the past. For someone like that, unconditional love and acceptance was a foreign currency she didn't know how to exchange. Damon experienced it from his family and closest friends all his life. He had to remember for Elena, it was still a novelty.

But she could have told him.

Damon dropped his head into his hands, elbows on his desk. He shoved aside the documents ratifying the transparency measures he proposed for the Collective. He couldn't care about anything else right now. He was no good.

"Long day?" Enzo asked from the office door.

"Something like that." Damon leaned back, composing his face and propping one elbow behind him on the chair.

"Still no word from Elena?" Enzo's eyes and voice held caution. He rightfully ascertained that Damon was a powder keg set to blow at the least provocation.

"No, and I don't get it." Damon shook his head, meeting his best friend's eyes. "I know she needs me, but she won't let me in. Believe me, I nearly got arrested trying."

"Did you see the latest development?" Enzo took the seat across from Damon.

"You mean dinner with Matt Donovan?" Damon gritted his teeth but managed to speak. "Yeah, I saw. It is bullshit. There is an explanation for it."

"No, not that." Enzo frowned. "You didn't hear?"

Dread creeped over Damon like a morning chill.

"What happened?"

"She had a press conference or something earlier today."

"Yeah, for her new scent, Goddess," Damon said quickly. "What about it?"

"Apparently some of Liam's supporters, or maybe some protesters, defaced the ad. You can pull up the footage. It is everywhere."

Damon immediately searched for the press conference on his laptop. The footage was awful, and Elena was magnificent. Not just beautiful. It was what she said and how she stood. He didn't see a woman's curves and the perfect hair and makeup. He saw conviction. He saw courage. He saw a fighter, and she was his match. Let anyone tried to tell him differently, even Elena herself.

"She is pretty badass." Enzo's eyes and words held respect.

Damon glanced up, pride in her making him smile, even though she wouldn't even see him right now.

"Yeah, she is." Damon shook his head, but his thoughts didn't settle. It still didn't make sense. "I have been retracing my steps to see what went wrong. We were fine. We were fantastic, actually."

They made love that morning. It was perfect. He made omelets. They showered together. They laughed over things that only they would find funny.

"We left her place and came here," Damon said aloud, not seeing Enzo, but seeing that morning. Seeing Elena stretched out on his bed upstairs, smiling and tempting him to make love to her again. "She seemed quiet when we rode back to her place, but we were fine. And then when all hell broke loose at her apartment building, it was like a switch flipped. I don't know what she is doing or why she is doing this to us."

Damon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands hanging between them.

"To me," he added. "I don't know why she is doing this to me."

"Maybe I do," Rose said from the door.

Damon glanced up to find her in the spot Enzo occupied before he sat down.

"What do you mean?" Damon demanded, tensing. "How would you know why Elena is shutting me out?"

Rose walked fully into the office, sitting beside Enzo her expression tight.

"I'm waiting, Rose." Damon kept his voice even, but it was a struggle. "What do you know about it?"

"I, well, I…" She left it there for a few seconds, before looking straight at Damon. "She and I had a, um, conversation the other day."

Enzo closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side.

"Rose," he said. "We talked about this."

"What kind of conversation?" Damon's teeth clamped off all the other questions he wanted to hurl at her. "What did you say to her?"

"Well, I just…I mentioned some of the concerns we had about—"

"We?" Damon sliced in. "Who's we and what concerns?"

"I told her some members of the Collective expressed concerns about your relationship with her." Her head droped forward and she bit her lip briefly before going on. "And I told her that being with her could jeopardize everything you have worked for. Everything you want."

Damon shot to his feet, leaning over the desk and jabbing his finger into the papers spread in front of him.

"How the hell do you presume to know what I want, Rose?"

"I d-don't." Rose stammered when people yelled at her. "I…I j-just know how h-hard you have worked. She—"

"What else did you say?"

Rose presses her hand to her temple, like Damon was giving her a headache.

"I, well, just that I…" She pulled a breath in from her chest and exhaled slowly before looking back to Damon. "That if she cared about you she would think about what will happen when she has done with you. I think, since things went so badly the other day, that maybe she is trying to protect you."

"Rose," Enzo said sharply before Damon got the chance to respond. "Can't you see he loves her?"

Damon glanced at Enzo surprised by his astuteness. Attracted to? Really into? Lusting after? Enzo could have said any of those things, and been correct, but he said love. And Damon did love Elena. He was just surprised his friend knew.

"I thought she was a phase he was going through," Rose whispered, blinking back tears under Enzo's rebuke. "I'm sorry."

Damon walked around the desk and perched on the edge.

"Hell, Rose." Damon reached down to grab her hand just as a tear splashed on it. "We have been through a lot. You know I love you like a sister, but Enzo is right. I love Elena. I know you don't get it. I know you don't approve—"

"No, now I get it." Rose looked up, blinking her tears back. "I saw that press conference earlier today. I get what you see in her."

The tight muscles across Damon shoulders relaxed just a little. A smile eased its way onto his face.

"Good, because you are going to see a lot more of her." Damon grimaced. "If I can get her to see me at all."

His phone buzzed in hispocket, and when he saw Caroline's name flashed across the screen, he took it as a sign that things might go his way.

"Caroline, where is she?" Damon walked out of the office, already headed for the foyer and grabbing his coat from the hall closet.

"I…we are at her apartment." Caroline's voice strained tears through the words. "I'm worried about her, Damon. She is locked in the bathroom and—"

"Locked in the bathroom?" Damon stopped on the sidewalk, raising his hand to hail a cab. "For how long?"

"Like the last couple of hours." Panic highlighted her words. "Maybe I should have called maintenance or something to break the door down, or I could jimmy the lock. She…she just won't open up."

"I'm on my way." Damon slid into the backseat of the cab. "Do me a favor. Call downstairs and get the key. They will do that for you. Make sure I can actually get in and up this time."

Damon couldn't free his voice from irritation that Elena blocked him that way. At least now he thought he understood why, but he wouldn't feel much better until he was sure. Until he could hear it from her for himself.

Once he was inside the apartment and in Elena's bedroom, right outside her bathroom door, he hesitated. What was on the other side? He knew Elena wouldn't let this lead her to hurt herself. She was too much of a fighter for that, but these last few days had cut deeply, had bruised and beaten her in ways she couldn't have been prepared for.

Caroline stood right at his back, so close he could practically feel her breath. He turned to face her, placing his hands on her shoulders and bending down until their eyes were level.

"Hey, why don't you go get a drink or something?" Damon gave her thin shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "Just give me a few minutes with her."

"I'm not leaving." Caroline's eyes were hard. "I have been with Elena a long time, and I have never seen her like this."

She looked down at the floor, clearing her throat before looking back up at Damon, determination on her face.

"I'm not leaving."

Thank God Elena had this woman. Her parents certainly offered no support. Damon pulled Caroline in for a quick hug and dropped a kiss on her cheek.

"I'm not leaving either," he said. "So she has got both of us. Just trust me with her for a little while, okay?"

Caroline looked like she was still not sure, glancing at the closed door for a few moments. She finally exhaled a heavy breath and left the bedroom without a word.

Damon didn't bother knocking. He used the key Carolinel got from maintenance, turning it until the bathroom door swung open. His heart plummeted at his first sight of her. He knew she was not dead, but she was so completely still in a small lifeless knot on the bathroom floor, wearing nothing at all. She didn't even respond when the door opened.

Damon took a few steps until he could see her face, and her eyes stared vacantly ahead, tears rolling silently down her cheeks, into her mouth, onto her neck. He wanted to squeeze the life out of something, to rage at everyone who hurt her and left her for dead. To choke Liam Davis and everyone from his team. But he couldn't do any of that right now. He could only do this.

"Elena," he said softly. "Sit up."

Elena didn't speak, just shook her head, eyes fixed on nothing and unblinking. Damon reached for her, startled by how cold her arm was.

"You are freezing, darling." Still no response.

Damon scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom. She didn't protest when he pulled the covers back and carefully placed her under the sheet and comforter. Without thought, he kicked off his shoes and crawled in behind her, pressing his body to her back, reaching for her hands and chafing them between his.

He didn't know how long they lie that way, the silence broken only by their breathing. Slowly, her back began to relax into his chest, and he scooted as close as he could, tucking his chin into the cove between her neck and shoulder. He crossed his arms over her waist, pulling her into him as tightly and gently as he could.

"I didn't abort my baby," Elena whispered.

Damon froze. As much as the questions lined up in his head, waited on his tongue, he held them back. Elena had to do this, to tell her story in her own way. He squeezed her fingers between his, silently encouraging her to say more.

"I…I was so young." Tears cracked her voice, and she sniffed before going on. "I knew I was pregnant at the Paris show. I was scared. I didn't know what I was doing. I had always thought I would sow my wild oats and then settle down with Aaron, but he didn't seem much interested in a life with me. I had this amazing guy I thought loved me, and I started thinking maybe he is the one. Maybe we will have a family."

Her laugh sounded harsh in the quiet darkness of the room.

"I was such a fool," Elena said. "I'm having this man's baby, and his wife shows up, confronting me, calling me names, making a fool of me in front of the whole world."

She shook her head, the jagged pieces of hair brushing Damon's chin.

"There was some foolish part of me that wanted that baby," she said. "Who did I have? Not my parents. I had no real friends, except Aaron, and he never wanted to be more than that. I thought, This is mine. I'm not giving this up. I wanted to believe Klaus when he told me their marriage was over. I was all set to tell him about the baby, but I needed reassurances, so I pressed about when he was getting the divorce."

Elena drew in a trembling breath.

"He finally laughed in my face and said, 'You actually think I would leave my wife for you, Elena? This is all there is.'"

Damon's jaw hurt from how tightly he was clenching it to tamp down his anger. That little shit. He could crush Klaus' skull for doing that to her.

"So I didn't tell him," Elena continued. "I didn't tell anyone. I pretended it was just not there for a few weeks; like it would go away. I had shoots and shows. I was sick all the time, but not eating. I was so busy, and I…I guess I didn't take care of myself."

For a few moments, Damon knew she was not with him. He knew she was lost in a place she needed for herself at least a little longer. And then she invited him in with her words.

"I had a shoot in LA." Her voice was as soft and wistful as a sigh, barely there. "I had an early flight to catch. I woke up and I was…there was blood in my sheets. So much…"

Damon felt her muscles tightening as her story unfolded, and he rubbed her arms, hoping to soothe her.

"I had no one to call." He could hear in her voice that she had been transported back to that morning, to the fear and panic. It was there, woven into her words. "I…I hadn't seen a doctor. Only took a test. I called the closest thing I could think of. My therapist. She was a rape counselor, but she lived not too far away. She came and got me and took me to a hospital, but it was too late."

Elena took the corner of the sheet to wipe at her tears, sniffing quietly.

"I don't know how they found out. My medical records were private. They got it wrong. I did have a D&C, but it wasn't an abortion. It was a miscarriage."

She shivered despite the shared warmth of their bodies.

"And I wanted that baby. I wanted it for myself. I wasn't sure what I was going to do. Who knows what I would have done in the end, but when I lost it, I wanted it. I do know that."

Elena quaked with the cries wrenched from her. Damon felt every heave and every rough sob, not just the motion and sound of it vibrating through his muscle and bone, but he felt it in the places unseen. He felt it in his soul, and he knew it was because Elena and he were connected by something that went beyond sex, beyond friendship. They were connected by love. He knew he couldn't experience this hurt as deeply as she did, but he felt it with her. He was attuned to every motion, every tear, every sigh. An intimacy that transcended flesh and blood tangled them together, so he knew when Elena finally fell asleep. And he knew it was not only because this day had left her spent, exhausted, but because here with him, sharing these hurts with him that she had never shared with anyone before, she found some measure of peace.


	32. Chapter 32

Elena jackknifed to sit upright, confused by her surroundings. She dreamed of that night again. The night that severed her from the innocence of her mind and body. Sleep transported her back to her bedroom after the prom. She was wrapped in her fluffy robe, her spine, a pipeline for rivulets of water dripping from the hair hanging in tangled clumps around her neck. Icy water pooled at the small of her back. Her fingertips puckered from the shower. Her nails, broken from the fight, folded into her palms. Her skin, scalded neon pink from all the scrubbing. But the scrubbing couldn't reach the shame. Nothing could.

But she was not there anymore.

She was not slumped on the floor in the bedroom where she hosted sleepovers for the popular girls growing up. She was in bed, and it was not the pink and white four-poster in her parent's Park Avenue house. The headboard was quilted and tufted at her back. She was not in her fluffy robe. She was naked, and a thickly muscled thigh brushed up against her hip.

The room's bulky shapes clarifed as Elena's eyes grew accustomed to the predawn light. A huge lump next to her rose and fell only slightly under the covers, the sound of breath drawn and expelled the only noise in the otherwise quiet room. Her hand wandered a few experimental inches until she encountered the warm, hard slope of a naked shoulder. She slid her fingers into the hair at his nape, the strands cool and silky.

Damon.

Elena's relief was so deep and profound tears stung her eyes, and she had to catch a sob in her hand before it woke him.

He was here. Oh, God, he was here. _Thank God,_ Elena thought.

While she slept she was trapped in a montage of memories from that night ten years ago. She was not sure how much of it was a fictional scene her subconscious cobbled together from scraps in her head, and how much of it was real. But the other part, the part where Damon gathered her close—cold, naked, catatonic—and brought her to bed, that was real. The part where she unlocked the cell where guilt and shame held her past prisoner, and she told Damon all the things no one else knew—that was real. The part where she fell asleep experiencing something she, by reason of her shitty week, had no reason to feel—peace—that was real. And everything real was because of the man asleep beside her.

Elena didn't have the strength to push Damon away again. It nearly killed her the last time. She knew Kerris said putting him first was love, but maybe she was too broken for that kind of love. Maybe she was too selfish to put what was best for him over the overwhelming need to have him in her life. To keep him. Her heart ached that being with her might cost him his dream of running the Collective. She was torn, but not perfectly, evenly in half. Most of her was too grateful to have him back, damn the repercussions.

"Elena?" Damon asked, his voice gravelly with sleep. "You up, sweetheart?"

Elena passed her hand over his brow, exploring the strong, high cheekbones and square chin. She would know this face anywhere. Even in the dark, the angles, the planes, the curve of his mouth—they rivetted her. Damon brought her hand to his lips, repositioning himself until his head and shoulders rested in her lap on top of the comforter. She slid her hand under his chin so her thumb could trace his mouth. This simple intimacy soothed the ache in her soul she thought beyond reach.

"Are you okay?" Damon pulled her hand down to his broad, bare chest, mingling their fingers.

"I'm better now that you are here." Elena paused, trying to swallow her guilt, but it didn't go down easily. "I shouldn't have pushed you away and shut you out like that."

Damon tilted his head back, angling to see her face even in the dim light.

"No, you shouldn't have, and if you do it again there will be consequences."

"Like what?" Elena found a smile because she knew this version of Damon and he always made her smile.

"Like locking you in my house on Tybee Island and making you my sex slave."

Her laught was helpless and husky.

"You sure know how to punish a girl, Mr Salvatore."

"Don't do it again, Elena." The humor faded fast, and his sober tone behoved Elena to listen.

"I won't. I promise." She closed her eyes, ashamed of the very public stunt she pulled. "Damon, about Matt. Nothing happened between us the other night. I just…I wanted to throw the media off your trail."

Damon was quiet so long she wondered if he didn't believe her. After a few moments he turned, grasping her hips and sliding her down until they were lying face-to-face, the brightening skyline revealing his watchful expression.

"Did you kiss him?" His voice pulled tight, braced for her answer. "Did he touch you?"

Elena reached up and pushed the hair away from his forehead.

"No. I told him I had finally agreed to see him face-to-face so he could have the closure he thought he needed." She shrugged. "It was just an excuse, and had the added benefit of distracting the media from your involvement with me."

His hands at her hips spread over her bottom, his fingers were warm through the sheet. He dipped his head to her ear.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you are mine, Elena Gilbert?"

Elena's heart flipped behind her sternum, his words sending a thrill through her. She folded her arms between them, elbows bent, fingers locked around his neck.

"And you are mine, Damon Salvatore."

"About damn time," Damon said, closing the space between them, pulling her lips between his, his mouth possessive, claiming her and yielding to her in the same breath. He pulled back after a few moments, pressing their foreheads together and running his hand over her hair.

"Thank you for telling me about Matt," he said. "I needed to hear you say that, but in my heart, I knew nothing happened."

"How would you know?" Elena's hands pressed into the hard muscles of his back, and ran down to the taut waist.

"Because I trust you." Damon tilted her chin. "And because I figured you were trying to protect me. Rose told me what she said to you about the Collective."

Elena carefully pulled her chin from between his fingers, lowering her head. She wouldn't blame him for choosing the Collective over her, but the same heart that flipped moments ago, hurt from that possibility.

"All I know is the woman who made a sacrifice like that for me, the woman I saw at that press conference yesterday," he said, taking her chin again and locking his eyes on hers. "That woman is worthy of my love. I just hope I'm worthy of hers."

If there was such a thing as time in this utopia they were in right now, then it stopped while Elena tried to make sense of what Damon had just said.

"Love?" Her voice laid limp between them, uncertain. "You…well, you—"

"Love you, yeah."

"Damon, you don't have to say it." Elena shook her head. "If you—"

"Well, I need to hear you say it." Damon traced her eyebrows, his long fingers pushing back her hair. "Do you?"

There was no rationale to them. Damon was the saint. She was the sinner. He had always known he wouldn't settle for anything other than an urgent love. She had only ever had phonies, sorry substitutes for this real emotion, this visceral connection they shared. They shouldn't be here together, but they were. Their hearts defied those odds, and Elena could only be grateful.

"With everything," Elena whispered, tears on her cheeks. "I love you with everything I have."

Damon framed her face with those big hands, thumbs brushing at her tears, eyes melded with hers.

"Then you understand why I can't ever let you go, right?"

She laughed into the kiss he initiated, a mixture of mirth and emotion that had her mumbling against his lips.

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

x x x

The promise of a love like this, the possibility of it, led Damon to break his engagement with a woman who made perfect sense. This kind of love compelled his father to drive all night to be under the same roof as his mother. He refused to settle for anything less with no assurances that he would ever find it.

But Damon had, in the most unlikely place he could have imagined. On a billboard in a city where he never wanted to live. His father used to say when he saw Lillian, it was like a click in his head, the sound of his soul locking with hers. Was that what happened to him that day when he saw Elena up on that billboard in Times Square? _Who knows? Who cares?_ Damon said to him. Click or no click, all that matters was that they were here now, and he hadn't made love to her in two days.

Time to rectify that.

Except her phone kept beeping with a text alert, and it was wrecking her moment.

"I should probably get that." Elena traced circles on his shoulders with her nails. "It could be—"

"Doesn't matter who it is." Damon reached over to silence the alert, then laid back down to face her, grasping her waist and dragging her into him. "Whatever it is, whoever it is, they can wait."

"What if it is important?" Her smile told him she couldn't care less about whoever was on the other end of that text.

"This"—Damon gestured between their two hearts—"is important. Everything else can wait."

Elena nodded, eyes fixed on him as she took his bottom lip between both of hers, coaxing his mouth open to her.

"Are you sure, Elena?" Damon frowned, his hands pressing into the subtle curve between her back and her butt. As much as he wanted this, it was just last night she was weeping on the bathroom floor. Just last night she was unburdening things she had carried around nearly half her life. "Yesterday was traumatic. I can wait if you need me to."

"I can't wait." Elena ran her tongue over the scruff of his jaw, dotting kisses over his chin, his neck, his shoulders. "You are right. Yesterday hurt."

She paused, pulling back so he could see the shadow that passed over her face.

"But your love heals me, Damon." She lowered her lashes, shaking her head. "I know it sounds silly, but—"

Damon took that excuse captive with his lips, swallowing any words Elena would have said. Gently, carefully, like she was fine crystal, he turned her to her back, positioning himself between her long legs, supporting his weight on his elbows. One hand pushed back her hair. His kisses traversed her face, her neck, the fragile bones of her shoulders. He was steadily moving lower, pausing to suck her plump, tight nipples. Stopping to lick into the hollow of her belly button. Nibbling at her hips.

"God, Damon, yes." Her breath caught every time he possesd another part of her.

Damon hooked an elbow under her knee, pulling it up. Pushing it back, feathering kisses across the silky skin of her inner thigh, licking and kissing until he reached her sweet center. He forced himself to slow down, to take his time. He opened her up, pulling the bud between his lips. Dipping his tongue inside. Her whimpers spurred him on, making it harder to go slow. The taste of her hit his tongue, and all control slipped through his fingers like loose reins. He grabbed her bottom roughly, pulling her into imh, spreading her wider, eating voraciously, with hunger he couldn't check. One hand pressed her knee back more, the other grazed her stomach on its way to her breast, to knead, to squeeze, to pinch, to roll. To love.

"Don't you dare stop." Her fingers plowed into his hair as the rhythm of her hips matched the stroke of his tongue. "Please, don't stop. Don't…Damon, don't—"

Elena's words dissolved into plaintive cries, her nails digging into his shoulders, her knees pressed into his head as she fell apart, syllables strangled in her throat. Damon lived for this. He had waited for this all his life. To have the woman he loved this way, an intimacy that came only with knowing you were loved in the same way you loved.

Damon rose up, propping himself on his elbows, aligning their bodies. He didn't ask if Elena was ready. He knew she was. Tremors still rolled through her, and at the first thrust, he felt her quaking against him She gripped him tight, each time he pulled out, her body was reluctant to release him. She was not crystal. She was not glass, and as much as he wanted to be gentle, his body took over, mercilessly slaking itself inside her. She anchored her heel behind his thigh, meeting every thrust.

"Yes. Just like that, Damon. I love you," Elena whispered, meshing their fingers. "I love you so much."

Pleasure tipped her head back into the pillow, eyes pinned to the ceiling above, mouth falling open with a silent sob, tears running down her cheeks and into the corners of her mouth. She clung to Damon's shoulders, burying her head between his neck and his shoulder. "Don't ever leave me. God, Damon, don't ever…"

"I love you, Elena." Damon's throat was raw with emotion. His body slaved to the want, the love, the unrelenting rhythm driving both of them. "I won't go. Promise."

Love and lust crested between them, climbing and climbing until they crescendoed. Elena splintered around him, her tears wetting his neck and shoulder. Damon dropped his head into the pillow by her hair, cupping her head, twining their bodies so tightly it felt like she was drawing his breath and he was drawing hers. Like her heart was beating in his chest, and his heart beating in hers. He knew in that moment, she was the fire burning in his chest, and he would chase her down. He would follow her anywhere.


	33. Chapter 33

"Damon, we should get up." Elena lifted up on one elbow, running her nail between his pecs. "It is late."

"Is it?" Damon groggily opened one eye. "That must be why I'm starving."

"Me, too. I wonder if there is any—"

A heavy knock on the door cut Elena off. The wrinkle between her eyebrows matched the one between Damon's.

"I hope you are decent," a muffled voice said testily through the door, "because I'm coming in."

Caroline stepped into the room, a hand shielding her eyes.

"I hate to interrupt this love fest, but—"

"You stayed here all night, Caroline?" Elena pulled the sheet up over her naked breasts and shoulders.

"Of course I stayed," Caroline snapped, dropping the hand from her eyes. "Well, hello there."

Elena followed her friend's eyes to Damon's bare chest above the sheets. She yanked the covers over him up to his chin while he just chuckled.

"Keep your eyes to yourself and off my boyfriend, hussy."

"Oh, so now you claim him." Caroline's smile widened, eyes ping-ponging between Damon and Elena.

"What is it look like to you?" Elena tossed her head back, laughing like a lunatic because the happiness reached into madness. Reached into idiocy, it was so far beyond what she could contain. Damon's eyes laughed back at her, and she thought he was happy as she was. She thought that was how this worked.

"Well, as delighted as I am for you both," Caroline said, eyes sobering, "the world is waiting. You gotta get up, Elena."

"Waiting?" Elena slinked down lower into the covers. "Get up for what?"

"Breakfast, for one." Damon gestured to Caroline. "Maybe you could get on with this so I can go cook us something."

"I want a Denver omelet," Elena whispered from beneath the sheet covering her mouth.

"Geena has been calling you all morning." Caroline walked closer, phone in hand, carefully averting her eyes from any parts of Damon uncovered. "I can't hold her off much longer."

"What doess she want?" Elena mumbled, hoping it wasn't more fallout from the disastrous perfume release. "Is it about yesterday?"

"In a way." A hint of a smile touched Caroline's lips. "Apparently, someone very important saw the press conference yesterday."

"Half the world did." Elena swallowed the embarrassment working itself into her throat at the memory of the word "whore" scrawled behind her.

"This is a volunteer from Liam's campaign." Caroline gave her a dramatic pause, lifting her brows. "Who wonders if you meant it when you said you would stand with anyone who came forward against Liam Davis."

Both Damon and Elena went still at the same time, their eyes finding each other's across the sheets.

"Is she saying—"

"She won't say any more than that to anyone but you." Caroline extended her phone. "Thus Geena calling every five minutes to see if you are still in here having sex with your man."

That made twice in a week Elena had blushed, a record for her cheeks. Damon just laughsed shaking his head and leaning back against the headboard, completely unabashed. _If the media could see their "saint" now,_ Elena thought.

"Have her come here to the apartment." Elena needed to shower. Her hand flied up to her hair. "I need a shower. And wash my hair."

"Wash your hair?" Caroline leaned forward with her hands on her hips. "Just wash? Oh, I think we can do something about it, baby."

"It can't be that bad." Elena ran her hand over her hair. "I just need to wash it."

"You deserve a new look, baby." Caroline grinned while assessing Elena's hair. "Lucky for you I graduated from the best cosmetology school in Jersey."

She headeds toward the bathroom, signaling for Elena to follow.

An hour later, Elena was clean, and Caroline had trimmed some of Elena's hair and put highlights on it.

"Much better. It will do for now." Caroline turned Elena's head in various angles as she admired her artwork. "You should have done this years ago."

"What?" Sarcasm twisted Elena's lips. "Had a nervous breakdown?"

"No, dye your hair." Caroline nodded decisively. "You look better with highlights."

Elena had to agree. Caroline had trimmed her hair until they reached her shoulders and with the read streaks on her hair, she looked sophisticated in a completely different way. And somehow sexier.

"I can see it now." Caroline framed her hands as if around a movie Mylar. "The hairstyle that everyone is asking for: the Elena."

"Uh-huh, okay." Elena stood and brushed excess hair from her shoulders. "We can discuss the cultural impact of my hair later. She will be here any minute, right?"

"I think you will have just enough time to eat whatever that man of yours has smelling so good." Caroline glanced at the text message from Geena. "They are about twenty minutes away."

Elena nodded, smearing on a little lipstick and sliding studs into her earlobes.

"So he is the one, huh?" Caroline asked softly, meeting Elena's eyes in the mirror.

Elena couldn't stop the smile that splitted her expression open. Even with this development, this possible breakthrough in the case against Liam. Even with the memory of yesterday still lingering, nothing distracted her from the fact that Damon loved her back.

"Yeah, he is the one."

Later, Damon sat beside Elena on the couch, holding her hand, eyes set on the young woman seated across from them. She couldn't be much older than Elena was when Liam raped her. Twenty? Twenty-one? Elena squeezed Damon's hand tighter, the memory of the broken girl she was after that night rising up to mock her confidence.

Geena was taking her turn grilling Tanya. Next would be Elena's lawyer, Connor. Then Elena was sure Karen would have questions of her own. Everyone wanted to get this right, to not squander this chance that had dropped into their laps. The chance to bring Liam Davis down once and for all.

"So you volunteer with Liam's campaign?" Geena probed from beside the young woman, Tanya.

"Yes," she said softly, not looking up from the flats on her feet. "I signed up about a month ago."

She gave her head a quick shake, running a nervous hand through her light brown hair.

"I believed in him. I thought he was…I thought he was the real deal, but he wasn't. He is not."

"What happened?" Geena flicked her eyes from Tanya to Elena.

"One night he asked me to stay back to help him with some demographic projections." Tanya swallowed, closing her eyes. "I thought it would be the whole team, but it was just us in his office. He kept touching me and trying to kiss me. When I finally told him no and that I didn't think it was appropriate, he lost it."

She drew a ragged breath across her lips.

"He…he raped me."

"I hate to be indelicate," Elena spoke for the first time since they greeted each other. "But he raped me, too. He raped Shaunti Miller, but neither of us has any proof. Do you have any…well, were you examined after the attack? Or do you have proof?"

"I wasn't examined," Tanya said, making Elena's heart sink. "But I did take pictures."

Elena's head jerked up.

"You took pictures? You have proof?" Elena gripped Damon's hand probably to the point of breaking.

"I thought no one would believe me." Tanya bit her bottom lip before glancing up at Elena. "I saw that they didn't believe you. Not only do I have pictures, but I have a checque."

"A checque?" Geena asked, voice eager and curious. "For what?"

"His campaign manager gave me hush money." The cynical laugh didn't fit anything about Tanya. "He actually thought he could buy me off. I wasn't sure what to do, so I just let him think it was cool. That it would just go away."

She looked at Elena, her head tilted.

"Until yesterday, when I saw that press conference, Miss Gilbert," she said. "Did you mean it when you said yo would stand with anyone who came forward?"

Elena could barely breathe. Finally a break in the clouds. A chance. Their best chance to discredit Liam. Her best chance to get her life back and move on with Damon.

"I did mean it." Elena steeled her voice against the tears that would make it waver. "And I'm ready when you are."


	34. Chapter 34

Damon placed the flat black jewelry box on Elena's pillow. Then he moved it to the center of the bed. Then to the foot. He was just about to find some other conspicuous spot on the bed when Elena walked in, pulling up short when she saw the box in Damon's hand. She walked over to him, hand outstretched, palm up.

"Mine, I presume?"

Her eager smile chased away some of her fatigue. The last few weeks had been tough, but worth it. When Tanya's allegations came out, she not only toppled Liam's chance for a successful senatorial bid, but also Grayson's hopes of getting the Augustine board to vote against Aaron. The criminal charges filed against Liam and his arrest had rendered him completely useless in Grayson's pursuit to lead Augustine. Without the political favours as a bargaining chip, board members fell in line with Nathan's wishes and original intention to pass the reins to Aaron. Damon could finally taste his future with Elena. _So sweet,_ he thought.

"Yes, it is for you." Damon stretched his arm up over his head, putting it out of her reach. "But you have to sit down first. I have this whole thing worked out."

"You have a thing?" Elena sat on the edge of the bed, head titled and eyes glued to the black box. "Well, do your thing, Mr Salvatore."

Damon squatted down in front of her, placing the jewelry box on the floor and taking her hands in his. His heart sprintted in his chest. It felt like he had a plastic bag over his head every time he tried to breathe. His fingers were actually shaking a little. But he was doing this.

Elena was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Sometimes she smiled, and his heart stopped in his chest, awed by it. It seemed to him that the more she learned about herself, about who she was beneath the beauty the world couldn't get past, the more beautiful she became. Her beauty wasn't a flimsy thing, but it was girded by character and strength.

Damon had never wanted anything as badly as he wanted her for himself.

"Elena, have you ever wondered what would have happened if we had met at Princeton?"

Elena's eyes flew to Damon's face, widen, somehow surprised.

"Um, yeah." She dropped her eyes to the hands in her lap. "I have thought about it a few times. I wish we had."

"I'm kind of glad we didn't." Damon smiled when Elena shot him an uncertain glance. "What I mean is that I know it would have been wrong then. I needed all these years to become the man who could handle you. You needed that time to experience the hard things, the things that made you strong. Frankly, beautiful or not, I wouldn't have looked twice at you then. I was too young to see beyond my assumptions to your potential. We found each other when we were supposed to."

And he had no plans of ever letting go.

Damon picked up the jewelry box. Elena clasped her hands together, grinning and tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth. She took the box and stared at it for a moment.

"What is it?"

"I think that is why people open gifts, Elena."

Elena rolled her eyes, mouth tilting to the side as she carefully liftted the lid, her eyes lighting up when she saw what was embedded in the plane of dark velvet.

It was a seed. It had been in Damon's suitcase ever since he got back from his last trip. He wasn't sure when…or how…or why he wanted to give this to her, but now he knew.

"Do you remember the Ugandan proverb?" He curved one palm around her face, tilting it up so he could see her eyes. "From my office?"

"Sow seeds." She caressed the small seed with one finger. "Wait and see what comes with the rain."

"The seed, everything you see on the outside, is a hard coat. A protective shell." Damon trailed his finger over her hand holding the jewelry box. "The plant is under the shell and has to be awakened, and all of what we see on the outside has to fall away."

Elena nodded, her eyes locked with his. Her expression intent, absorbed.

"Over the last few weeks, I have gotten to see you in this process." Damon grabbed the hand resting in her lap, twisting his fingers around hers so she couldn't ever let go.

"You have discarded the trappings, the outside, and have awakened the part of you that is really alive. Germination is a kind of death, and it is painful." He pulled her close enough to kiss her lips, but he didn't allow himself that just yet. "You have experienced that pain, and you have had a lot of rain fall in your life. And now we see what has come after the rain."

Damon traced one high cheekbone with his thumb.

"I want you to know it is beautiful to me. Your passion, your courage and strength, all while being absolutely, unequivocally yourself. Flaws and all." He paused, staring at their clasped hands for a moment. "I don't know that we would have seen all of that without the pain. Without the rain."

Tears clung to Elena's lashes, falling as she blinked.

"You have been with me through all the rain, Damon." She raised her eyes to Damon's face. "Most wouldn't have stood with me when there were no guarantees that I would win against Liam."

But she would. Now with her story, and the undeniable proof Tanya had provided, Liam was arrested and awaiting trial, she would. Even if that wasn't assured, Damon wouldn't want to wait.

"Elena, I know there are still things that have to happen." Something that was half a grimace, half a grin shaped Damon's mouth. "But let's not wait."

Elena's brows knitted over the confusion of her eyes.

"Wait for what? What do you mean?"

"You remember I told you how my father felt about my mom? That it was urgent?" Damon waited for her to nod before pressing forward. "That is how I feel about you. About us. I wanted to take everything slow, Elena, and we did, but I'm past slow. It is urgent to me that you know today what I want."

Her lashes lifted, and Damon saw the question forming in her eyes. Before it could make it to her lips, he carefully removed the seed from its velvet bed, and opened her palm.

"I know it is unconventional." Hisvoice almost failed him as those brown doe eyes blinked back at him. "And I promise I will get you an actual ring, but this felt right to me. Today. Right now. I have to ask you this."

"Damon, what—"

"Will you marry me?"

All the air swooshed from Elena's chest, through her mouth. Her eyes widen and her mouth fell open and then snapped closed.

"Damon, I—"

"Say yes." Damon leaned forward, caressing the skin behind her neck. "I don't want to wait for the smoke to clear or for everything to make sense. I have to know today that you will be mine forever, Elena."

"This business with Liam still has—"

"No bearing on whether or not you love me. On if we will spend the rest of our lives together."

"There is still such a cloud hanging over me, though," Elena whispered.

Damon lifted her chin, swiping his thumb over the tear streaking down her cheek.

"There is no cloud," he told her, cupping her chin. "Not between you and me. The world can go to hell. Remember I told you once that you should follow the fire, find out what burns inside you and let it guide you?"

Elena laid her forehead against his, nodding, one hand slipping behind his neck, fingers sliding in his hair.

"You, Elena Gilbert, are my fire." Damon's voice withered for a second, simply failing with the emotion of the truth. He swallowed, determined to say these words. "What I feel for you guides me. Guided me right to you. To this moment. Forget the rest of the world."

He leaned in to kiss her, melding their mouths, licking into her sweet heat.

"I have never seen anything more beautiful than you, Elena." He punctuated the words with kisses. "Your strength, your courage, your conviction. Don't ever think you are not good enough for me. I only hope I can be good enough for you because you, darling, are damn magnificent. I need you in my life."

"Damon, I—"

"Say yes," Damon mumbled against her lips. "Baby, say yes."

Elena pulled back just enough to search his face, to probe his eyes, which he knew reflected how absolutely sure he was about this. A smile started in her eyes and worked its way to her mouth. She closed her fingers over the seed tightly, protecting it in her palm. Damon held his breath, waiting for her to give voice to what he was in her eyes. Waiting for her to seal what they felt right now into forever.

"Yes."


	35. Epilogue

_TWO YEARS LATER_

"Hey, Elena! Could I get a picture?"

Elena turned in the direction of the request, shielding her eyes with one hand against the Hawaiian sun. It was not a reporter or a photographer. Just a woman approaching her. Kindle in one hand, phone in the other. Her kids build sand castles behind her, visors on their heads.

"Could I get a picture with you?" she repeated, smiling at Elena widely, genuinely. "I live on your site. Love all the Retreat stuff."

Elena hesitated. She was pretty wary of pictures these days. She had had enough of the limelight. Not that she was completely out, but she hadn't walked a runway in the last two years. People didn't stop her on the street as much. She still had a few endorsements, but she had deliberately shrunk the circle of light she stood in.

"This bathing suit is actually Retreat," the woman continued, setting her Kindle on the sand.

Elena looked a little more closely and recognized the suit from last season's Retreat's swimwear line.

"It looks great on you." Elena smiled back, still not sure about the picture.

"Well, I do Jalene's videos on the site every morning," she said. "Even had the hubs install a barre in the basement."

"That is awesome. Well, I can tell it is paying off."

Her eyes caught something over Elena's shoulder, admiration widening her smile even more.

"Isn't that your husband?"

Elena twisted to look over her shoulder, her heart still leavening in her chest at the sight of Damon after two years. Those damn butterflies were here to stay, apparently, because they still flapped madly when he smiled at her like that, like she was the appetizer, main course, and dessert all wrapped in one bite.

"Yep, that's him," Elena said absently, distracted by the cling of his wet suit molding the bulge of his arms, the muscles in his legs, the width of his chest.

Damon loped towards them, water running from his hair and down his face. He reached for the towel on the lounge chair where Elena had stowed their things.

"Hi, there," he said to the lady ogling him. Elena was not sure if it was all the dripping wet, ginger-topped eye candy making her cheeks flame, or that sexy smirk of his. Both got Elena every time, so she couldn't blame her.

"Hi," she said a little breathily.

"Hey, baby," Damon said to Elena, tossing the towel down, palming her cheek and pressing his cold lips to hers. "I didn't know you were coming out."

"We wanted to see if you hit your target time."

His blue-grey eyes lit up and he relieved her of the weight on her hip.

"Joseph!" Damon lifted their son, Joseph, up in the air and gave him a gentle shake. "Did you see Daddy in the water?"

Predictably, Joseph giggled, compelling him to do it again, his blue eyes bright in his chubby face under the dark brown hair.

"Did you see Daddy in the water?" Damon asked again, pressing Joseph a few inches higher in the air before bringing him down to kiss his little slobbery lips.

Elena glanced from her husband back to the lady wearing the Retreat swimsuit. "You wanted a picture, you said?" Elena reminded her wryly.

"Oh, yes." She blinked and smiled, shifting her eyes away from Damon cooing to Joseph.

"Go on, Elena," Damon said, a touch of warning in his eyes when they met Elena's. "I have got the baby."

His not-so-subtle way of making sure Elena was not considering splattering their son all over Instagram. They had turned down offers from People and several other magazines when Joseph was born. They even offered to make a donation to one of Damon and Elena's favorite charities in exchange for the pictures. Damon wasn't having it. He was fiercely protective of Joseph. He was pretty protective of their privacy in general, but especially when it came to their son.

Elena wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulder while she snapped a selfie and promised to tag her.

 _Gee, thanks,_ Elena thought. _No thanks._

Once she was walking off back towards her kids, still playing in the sand, Elena turned to face Damon, who had mercy—peeled the top of his wet suit down so it flopped over, baring the sculpted muscles of his chest and abs. With a house full of family, her libido was in overdrive because they weren't screwing nearly enough to satisfy her. She stepped close, sandwiching Joseph between their hearts, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his wet hair.

"How was your swim?" Elena hoped she was working him up as much as he was to her so they could have clandestine sex in a pantry or something later. "How are you doing on time?"

"Not bad for an old man." Damon chuckled, the subtle laugh lines at his eyes deepening. It was laughable to think of Damon as an "old man," because at thirty-seven, her husband remained quite the specimen. Thus Elena was feeling hot and horny in the Hawaiian sun.

"You back on target?" Elena asked, knowing he had been trying to shave a minute off his swim time.

"I will be by the next race. I got a few months." Damon shook his head, sighing. "Things have been so busy it has thrown my training off."

"Busy, but going so well," Elena reminded him, proud of all the global progress the Collective had made since Damon sold the Mystic to Augustine and took the reins two years ago.

"Sorry I was on that call so late last night. I had no idea the issues were that complex."

"It is okay, but I did miss you. I like to fall asleep in your arms, if you hadn't noticed," Elena said huskily, leaning in to pull his bottom lip between hers.

The arm that was not holding Joseph slipped around her waist, dragging her closer.

"I love my family," he said against her lips. "But maybe we should have realized how little privacy we would have bringing Joseph to Hawaii with us."

"It is okay." Her tongue darted between his lips for a quick taste of him. "Joseph climbing in bed with us the last couple of nights is what has been the real cock blocker."

"I hated thunderstorms growing up, too." Damon squintted up at the sky. "I think we should be fine tonight if the weather holds. Where's Stefan and everyone else?"

"Back at the house with your mum." Elena laughed. "It seems like all the girls are cooking something, and all the guys are watching ESPN."

"Sounds about right." His chuckle faded away, concern in the eyes assessing her.

"Are you still feeling up to the trip?" Damon took her hand and started walking them back towards the rented beachside villa housing the whole Salvatore clan while they were on vacation.

"Are you kidding me?" Elena laughed and touched Joseph's head gently. "That trip to London is my best shot at getting laid."

"Truth. At this rate we might have to mile high it." Damon didn't crack a smile, and Elena hoped he was serious. Some of her favorite orgasms had been at thirty thousand feet. "And what about you? How is the morning sickness?"

"Not too bad."

Elena had to laugh when she thought of that afternoon she spent with Kerris two years ago, marveling at her having three kids in as many years. Here she was pregnant with her second in two years, and she couldn't even blame it on twins. Aaron and Kerris stopped at three, so far. The demands of running Augustine Enterprises had been greater than even Aaron could have anticipated, especially with her father's departure.

After more than thirty years as partners in corporate raiding, Grayson and Nathan Whitmore parted ways. Grayson decided to leave rather than serve under Aaron. Last Elena heard he was consulting for some of the most powerful CEOs in the international business community. _We Gilbert always land on our feet,_ she thought.

Only she was not a Gilbert anymore. She was a Salvatore. Damon's family truly embraced her unreservedly, making her feel finally like she had a family, not just a lineage. His Sunday school–teaching mother never once made Elena feel like a sinner. Lillian made her feel like the girl her son loved the way her husband loved her. Damon's capacity to love in spite of flaws, to love without condemnation—Elena knew where he got that now. It wasn't just the hair or the face his mother passed on. Lillian showed Elena a mother's love, something Elena realized she had been missing her whole life, and it filled a lot of the holes her own mother left.

The public wasn't as easy to convince. Bets were laid about how long Damon and her would last before she cheated on him, dumped him, humiliated him. Occasionally some reporter would still refer to her "wild days" or call her a "reformed bad girl." Damon was right about those labels people slapped on her back. Ultimately, they didn't matter. Thank God Damon peeled back the persona to find the person underneath. Damon had never cared what they said, and now neither did she.

Elena slowed her steps to match his as they got closer to the house, both of them enjoying even this sliver of time alone without kids everywhere they turned. Much as they loved his family,their time alone fuelled both of them. Elena could tell Damon missed the little quiet piece of the world they carved out for their young family as much as she did. After living out loud for so long, it felt good to live just above a whisper.

"Joseph is loving the chance to hang with all his cousins." Elena stopped a few yards shy of the villa entrance, taking in Damon holding their eighteen-months-old in his powerful arms.

"You still feel good about leaving him with my parents for a few days while we are in London?" Damon searched her face, pushing back the hair she kept just above her shoulders.

"If there is anyone we can trust him with it is your mother." Elena shrugged. "Besides it is just for a few days. We will pop over for Halima's event and come right back. Joseph won't even have time to miss us. He stopped feeding just in time."

She leaned into her son, pressing her forehead to his.

"Didn't you boy? Just in time for Mummy to go away. You are gonna be a good boy for Grammy, aren't you?"

Joseph answered with a bubble and a tiny-toothed grin.

"Can you believe we are having another baby?" Damon's mouth crooked with a satisfied smile.

Elena just rolled her eyes and shook her head. She had wanted another child with Damon but not so soon. She was in the middle of launching the Retreat Home line and planning a Paris fashion show to benefit all the charities Retreat's proceeds support. She had planned to wait until the dust settled some, but her body had other plans.

She glanced down at her brief shorts and tight tank top.

"I just got my body back, besides a few stretch marks, and now it is time to give it up again."

"You only get better and better." Damon tipped her chin up, eyes growing warmer. "Inside and out."

Elena leaned into him, pausing when the front door opened, his mother standing there holding Carter's hand, Stefan's son.

"Can I play with Joseph?" The three-year-old boy asked. "Please? Uncle Damon?"

"Play with Carter," Joseph said.

Lillian smiled. "Carter has been asking where Joseph is for the last half an hour."

Damon held Joseph in one arm, Carter in the other. "Okay, we will go and find Grandpa."

Sometimes looking at how well Damon's family got along made Elena's heart ached a little, though less and less as the years went on.

She tried not to let it bother her that her parents still wanted so little to do with her. Even if they wanted more of a relationship with her, Damon didn't want them anywhere near their son. Anywhere near their lives. She ran into her parents at a recent fund-raiser for one of Retreat's charitable organizations. The air iced over between them, neither acknowledging her. For just a moment, Elena wanted to drop the social mores, ignorede all the watching eyes and asdk them if they ever loved her, if they ever believed in here. Or had even one proud moment? But she didn't because she was afraid she already knew the answer, and she couldn't let it matter to her anymore.

Damon somehow managed to gather her into their little circle, pulling her close even with two children wriggling in his arms.

"Thank you for this little blessing." His eyes were suddenly serious, and Elena got it. She thought about their life sometimes and was absolutely humbled by how good it was. Not the money or the things or the fame she still had despite her efforts to shake it, but each other. Their son. The chance to do good for the things they were passionate about. Mostly thankful for each other.

"I think we kinda made this little blessings together," Elena said lightly, trying to lighten the moment. "This whole life we made together."

"And none of it works without you, Elena." His eyes burnt on her, heating her cheeks in that way only he ever managed. "Nothing works without you. You are my fire. You are my life. You know that, right?"

Elena couldn't speak for the tears clogging her throat as Damon's words sank in. She absorbed them, letting them watered all the spots left dry by doubt and condemnation. All the places barren from years of shame and inadequacy. For a moment, she was so grateful she finally proved that she was good enough. Damon stared at her for so long, so hard, his love was unavoidable, a tangible thing that wrapped around her as surely as his strong arms. She thought, in some ways, he had seen her, he had loved her, almost from the beginning, and she never had anything to prove to him at all.

Maybe everything she had to prove was to herself.

 _THE END_

* * *

 **When I finished writing this epilogue, one of the TVD songs came to my mind. I'm sure you guys/gals remembered the song "Don't deserve you" by Plumb which was played in season 5. I think this song fits perfectly for this story...**

 _I don't deserve a chance like this...I don't deserve a love that gives me everything...You're everything I want_

 **I have thoroughly enjoyed writing this story and I'm glad my readers have enjoyed reading it as much as I do. Thank you so much!**


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